


Call Me Cas

by never_wanted_to_dance



Series: Call Me Cas Universe [1]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, Developing Relationship, Everyone is young and stupid and nothing hurts, Gabriel is a Little Shit, Get some popcorn and put your feet up, Like seriously slow, M/M, Recent break-up, Slow Burn, Texting, Wrong number, rated for language
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-07-07
Updated: 2017-04-10
Packaged: 2018-02-07 22:29:21
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 13
Words: 30,075
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1916292
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/never_wanted_to_dance/pseuds/never_wanted_to_dance
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Dean is a social work major at the University of Austin determined not to lose his scholarship, so like it or not, he’s spending an awful lot of time in the library lately. When a note with a phone number and ‘call me’ scrawled on it falls out of a biology textbook though, he really can’t resist alleviating his boredom slightly. Castiel is pre-med, fresh out of a relationship, and sick to death of his brothers trying to set him up - so the last thing he needs is a weird stranger disturbing him when he’s trying to study.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Dean - **Bold**
> 
> Cas - _Italics_
> 
> No copyright infringement intended. Hope you enjoy.

# Call Me Cas

The level of subdued panic and despondence in the dimly lit library was so potent at 12pm the week before finals you could almost taste it in the air, Dean Winchester thought, as he wandered down yet another badly organised aisle in search of a book he really didn’t want to read.

The underpaid 24-hour librarian lounged behind the desk two rows back from him, headphones in and clearly watching Netflix on the old computer while the sparsely filled tables around the room showed students in a wide range of states, from panicky and frantic to almost definitely asleep behind that laptop screen. Outside was the coldest night they’d had so far this winter, with a chilly 40 degree wind putting an edge even on the mild Austin climate, and making him almost glad for the ancient library building and its unreasonably thick walls that made it impossible to get decent Wi-Fi anywhere inside.

He sighed and scanned the shelf in front of him. Biology never had been his strongest subject, even in high school, and he was starting to consider it a personal insult that he was required to take it in order to fulfill his major credits for the year and keep his funding.

Dean grabbed three books that looked the least likely to fall apart as soon as you touched them and headed back to the space he’d carved out for himself at the back of the room, quiet and alone.

The slightly battered looking laptop on the desk in front of him beeped insistently as he sat down and stretched. Dean glanced over and closed the lid down – if he started checking emails at this point it would be a lost cause. _I wonder if the Coffee Hut is still open_ , he wondered briefly, before remembering that he hadn’t brought any money with him for the exact reason of stopping himself becoming distracted by cute baristas and abundance of snacks. The last time he’d tried to study at the late-night campus shop he’d ended up spending four straight hours ignoring his books and flirting with the red-head who gave him his free refills and snuck complimentary biscotti his way.

Dean groaned and picked up the topmost leather-bound book, embossed in gold with ‘Essential Cell Biology’ across the front cover in age-worn letters, rubbed bronze by decades of oily fingertips and dusty shelves. As nice a plan as that sounded tonight, he never had called the sweet little red-head (Jenny? Jamie? What the hell was her name?) back anyway, so that probably wasn’t the best idea for a whole pile of different reasons. Pulling his notepad closer, he peeled open the book and settled down to take some more mind-numbing notes.

Flipping through the introductory pages to reach the contents, Dean stopped short. Stuck on top of the contents page was a neon yellow post-it note, obscuring the list of chapters beneath it. On it, scrawled in a loopy, slanting script, was a short message:

 

 _(512) 104 7230_  
_Call me, Cas_

 

Dean stared at the note for a moment before reaching down to peel it off. It came away from the thin page easily, the sticky back still fairly fresh, a few days old at most he reckoned. He read through it a couple of more times, sticking it to the top of his closed down laptop. Something about the wording bothered him and he couldn’t quite pin it down.

Was the note addressed to this ‘Cas’, or was it signed by them? Was it a secret message passing system used by the science majors that he had accidentally unearthed, or just a random attempt at a pickup via a seventy-year old book with damp patches on the back of it? He glanced around – there didn’t appear to be any angry biologists waiting to wage viral warfare on him or whatever for intercepting their private messages, so he figured he was probably safe for now at least. He scratched his head and stared a little more.

The more he considered it, the more bizarre it seemed, but at the same time compelling for the sheer stupidity of it. He could be anyone! Hell, he was anyone! He should be calling the owner of whoever’s cell number that was right now and telling them exactly how stupid it was trying to hit on someone through the medium of a biology textbook, whether it was for a specific person or not. Nobody in the world could find that sexy, surely. And hadn’t he ever seen Catfish?

Dean stopped, realising he didn’t even know if this was a guy or girl. He shook his head and dropped his gaze back to the book in front of him, attempting to ignore the neon square in the corner of his eye.

It only took seven minutes – not that he was counting, mind – for Dean to give up on his resolve. Pushing aside the nagging voice at the back of his mind that he was nowhere near the end of the study schedule for the night that his tutor had forcibly pushed into his hands earlier that week, he grabbed his phone. There was a missed call and a text from Ellen, asking if he was planning on coming home for Christmas, and did he know if Sam was too, and could he please call Bobby and tell him to give up on his current car project because it was a literal heap of scrap metal. Nothing that couldn’t wait until a more reasonable hour.

He looked over at the post-it and tapped in the local cell number, sending off a hastily typed message and pushing the phone to one side before he could change his mind.

**Hey. Is this Cas, or are you looking for Cas? Either way, I gotta say, Cell Biology isn’t very sexy.**

Across town, Castiel Milton’s phone buzzed loudly somewhere beneath his legs. He grumbled and jumped up, trying to find it in the tangled mess of bed sheets and pillows gathered around him where he sat, surrounded by books and his laptop. He unearthed three pens, a chocolate bar wrapper and a battered copy of Ford Madox Ford’s ‘The Good Solider’ before finally spotting it flashing underneath a handmade crochet blanket near where his ankles had been. The dim room lit up brightly with the LED screen unveiled, much brighter than the purposely dimmed computer screen and low reading light on the bedside table.

He squinted at it and frowned lightly. It informed him that a message was waiting, from an unfamiliar number with a local area code. He clicked through and read the message through twice, before deciding he was no better informed than he had been previously, although now slightly creeped out. He considered for a moment, then quickly typed a reply, and sunk back down into his nest of a bed to wait for an answer, which came back almost immediately.

_1) Yes, this is Cas 2) I have no idea who this is or what you’re talking about 3) how did you get this number?_

**Ah, sorry. Hi Cas. I found your note, you should really be more careful about where you leave your no. lying around.**

Cas frowned even more, staring at the screen in open confusion now. He looked around the empty room, hoping for some kind of explanation maybe from the ugly orange and beige wall paper, or the pile of books he hadn’t read yet.

_What note?_

In the library, Dean stared down at his phone, books pushed entirely to the side now. Somebody in this equation was clearly missing some vital information, and he was beginning to suspect it wasn’t him.

**Look man, I’m sorry if you didn’t know bout this? I found your number on a post-it in ‘Essential Cell Biology’ in the library, with a message saying ‘call me’. You didn’t write it?**

Cas groaned and closed his eyes. Suddenly he understood a whole lot more than he had, and flicked through his messages to locate one of his brother’s numbers. Any would do really, just so long as he had somebody to shout at. His finger hovered over Gabriel’s name as another message buzzed through from the unknown number. He stopped and flicked back through curiously.

**And I just realised I called you man, when you‘re probably a chick. Sorry. Again. I should probably just stop talking now.**

Cas snorted and shook his head as he replied. He had to hear this.

_Why am I ‘probably’ a chick??_

**Your handwriting is hella girly.**

_I thought we literally just established that *I* had nothing to do with writing that note?_

Dean halted as he typed and laughed aloud before quickly trying to stifle it in the silent library, realising his mistake. Okay, that was stupid. But no more so than this whole idea. Still, this Cas didn’t seem to be overly offended, and they were still texting back even after he was being openly dumb about things.

**…Okay, that was dumb. So you’re not a chick then?**

_Not last time I checked. Why do I have to be careful?_

**Huh?**

_You said I should be more careful about where I leave my number. Are you worried for my safety?_

**Well, y’know. Even a big strong guy as I’m sure you are can get stalked. I could be anyone, dangerous even.**

Cas laughed softly as he lay back on the pillows behind him, drawing the blankets around his cold feet as he got comfortable again. This guy – who was painfully, obviously male because honestly, who on earth says ‘chick’ these days? – didn’t exactly seem like the stalking type. He wasn’t sure if he should still be texting, this was probably beyond the polite apologies of a normal mistakenly sent message, but this was making him smile, which is more than most things were doing lately. He’d lose the number or the guy would lose interest in a few minutes anyway he was sure, so no harm done.

_And are you dangerous, stranger in the library?_

**Who me? I’m bad to the bone ;)**

_…That was terrible._

**Yeah not my finest I’ll admit.**

_I’ll forgive it._

**I wouldn’t to be honest.**

Cas snorted and glanced over at the illuminated clock on his bedside table, which politely reminded him that it was almost 1am.

_Well, as informative as this has been, I have a Biology final at 10 tomorrow so I have to go._

**Biology 301? So do I**

_And you’re still in the library? Dedication, I admire it._

**Not so much dedication as last minute panic… Good luck for tomorrow**

Cas found himself smiling fondly at the unsolicited well-wishes from this fast typing stranger. It was nice to think that someone who didn’t know him from Adam was sending good thoughts his way.

_You too, library stranger. Goodnight._

He locked his phone and put it on the bedside table, deciding to put off shouting at his brothers until the morning. He could have a wider range to choose from then at least, when they’d definitely all be awake. He flipped off the lamp and sunk down into the mess of pillows behind him, toeing a book off the bed to settle his legs in a more comfortable position. His eyes shut and he felt himself dozing off fairly quickly, drawn down by his soft bed, caffeine withdrawal and intense study sessions. His phone buzzed quietly once more, face down on the bedside table and he opened his eyes, reaching over to see what could possibly be so important it had to be said at 1.10am, and grinned widely despite himself at the text lighting up the screen.

**It’s Dean. You can call me Dean.**


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Dean - **Bold**
> 
> Cas - _Italics_
> 
> Gabriel - Underlined

‘Alright, if you’d all like to please put down your pens and stop writing, that is the end of the test. You can collect your bags from the front and expect to receive your grades via email in 14-21 working days.’ 

Cas looked up from his desk in the over-crowded exam hall and let out a breath he hadn't realised he’d been holding, dropping his pen onto his paper with a sigh of relief. It was over, his last exam of the semester, and even if he’d done badly he’d still done it, which was an achievement in itself if you asked him. He filed to the front of the room and handed his paper to the bored invigilator, before collecting his bag and squeezing through the excitable crowd to the emptier hallway beyond. It had been a frantic few weeks, but this was almost everybody’s last exam before Winter break and the holidays, and so everybody was understandably buzzing with new found life as they talked about their plans for the weeks ahead. Although some might have more finals after winter break, his course was one of the lucky few that had no more until the end of the following semester, and so Cas could relax a little. At least for a few weeks. 

He strolled out of a nearby door into the quad beyond, pulling his jacket around him at the chilly bite of wind before he realised that his phone was vibrating intermittently against his leg in his bag. He hadn't checked it since leaving the house early that morning he realised guiltily, and reached for it, hoping it was nothing urgent. 

THREE NEW MESSAGES

From: GABRIEL  
Hey hey, give me a call when you get this. Need to know if you need a lift next week? Dad says you are 100% not allowed to drive all the way home on the bike, soz

From: GABRIEL  
Also he wants to know if you’re bringing Balthy back with you for the holidays. Haven’t you told him yet? If you don’t I wiiiillll…

From: UNKNOWN  
 **WE’RE FREE! Well, for the holidays anyway.**

Cas read through the messages, trying to decide which required his attention first and decided on his brother, who he still hadn't had a chance to shout at yet. He tapped through the messages and pressed the call button, ducking his head against the wind as he made his way out of the parking lot and into the street. 

‘Y’ello?’ 

‘Gabe, when did I last tell you how much of a dick you are?’

‘Well, let me see, that would depend on how much you really don’t want to have to walk home next week.’

‘Gabe!’ 

‘Okay, okay, what? I won’t tell dad about Balthy I suppose, but you really do need to, you can’t put it off forever. How did the test go? I remember biology, I hated it, although not quite as much as I should have, damn I had such a hot TA that year-'

‘The test was fine, I’ll tell him when I tell him and I do NOT need to hear yet another TA fucking story.’ Cas growled back, cutting into his brother’s stream of consciousness. ‘You’re a dick because I got some really interesting messages last night from some guy, asking why I’d decided to leave my personal cell number in the front of some biology text book.’ He paused, letting Gabriel catch up and sighed when he heard the inevitable sound of stifled laughter coming his way. Awesome. 

‘Oh man, oh Cas, I er-’ Gabriel tried and failed to compose his voice into a sympathetic tone, and settled for terribly disguised glee. ‘Me and Luci were just messing around with your books when we came over last month, we figured it’d just be shoved in the back of a stack and found again in about ten years by a bored assistant or something.’ He giggled, traffic noises in the background mingling with the quiet rush of the city around Cas as he made his way through the small shopping area that he usually walked through to reach his small student flat. ‘So someone actually texted you, eh? Is he cute?’ 

‘How on earth would I know if he’s cute, all we did was talk over messages’ Cas replied irately. 

‘Ohh, you talked, huh? Not just the one message then goodbye? I knew it was a good idea, I bet he is cute. Wait, he’s not like a 45 year old man is he? Do you need me to come and escort you back to your dorm? Remember your stranger danger lessons!'

‘He’s a student called Dean and he said you write like a girl,’ Cas answered, fighting back the urge to add a petulant ‘so there!’ onto the end of his statement. Gabriel only laughed in return, and he heard the background noise of chattering people and clanging pans on the other end of the phone increase.

‘Uh-huh. Look little brother, I need to go to work, my shift started like five minutes ago and Debbie’s giving me the evil eye already from the kitchen. Hey Debbie, love you!’ Cas held the phone away from his ear as his brother yelled suddenly, and heard faint female laughter in return. ‘Give me a call when you know what day you’re coming home, okay? And talk to this kid! He’ll be good for you. Love ya, bye!’ he hung up suddenly, abrupt as ever as Cas was still opening his mouth to reply. He stopped and closed down the call window, stashing his phone in his pocket as he reached the bottom door of his flat, wondering why he ever expected to have a sensible conversation with his stupid brothers. 

~~~~

‘Dean, what are you even doing?’

Dean looked up from the book in his hands and over to the kitchen at the other end of the room, where his brother was perched awkwardly on the side of the kitchen counter eating Chinese food straight from the carton. Sam was entirely too large to be sat on the bench like he was, but the habit he’d had for years still made Dean smile fondly, remembering only a few years ago when his skinny kid brother hadn’t even been able to touch the top of the cupboards. Now his stupid head was so high he couldn’t sit there without hunching over. He turned down the corner of the page and stood up, stretching the sore muscles in his hunched shoulders out, sore from the position he’d been sat in for the past hour. 

‘Reading a book, genius, what’s it to you?’ Sam snorted and continued wolfing down his noodles. ‘Something funny?’ 

‘Its winter break, dumbass. Shouldn’t you be out celebrating or something? Who knew I had such an old man for a brother already. And you’ve hardly looked up from that book, except to check your phone. You waiting for someone?’ Dean shifted uncomfortably, wondering whether or not familial love and concern would preside over the inevitable decades of brotherly teasing if he admitted why he was really checking his phone. Probably not. 

‘Yeah well, somebody has to take care of your gangly ass don’t they’ he shot back, aiming a half-hearted punch at his brother’s leg as he walked over to the fridge. The view inside was rather uninspiring, and he was starting to think Sam had the right idea with his leftover take out. 

‘You could have gone out! I’m sixteen years old, I can look after myself,’ Sam answered, deftly flicking a noodle in his direction with a surprisingly dainty movement of his chopsticks. ‘Is Jo coming around?’ Dean shook his head and grabbed a can of soda and a box of egg-fried rice, then turned to sit at the tiny folding table crammed into the corner of the kitchen area. 

Truth be told, he’d turned down five separate invitations to head out and celebrate with his excited group of friends. Jo had whined and cajoled for almost ten minutes outside of the exam hall, and Benny had offered to pay for his first five drinks (which honestly, had almost been enough to tempt him), but he’d begged off it all. It wasn’t Sam – the kid could probably deal with a burglar as well as he could by now to be fair – he just wasn’t feeling it. It might be winter break, but until he knew how well he’d done on that bitch of an exam, he wouldn’t know if his funding for next semester was safe – not the most relaxing of things to have hanging over his head. He sighed and checked his phone where it lay on the table – in the initial excitement of leaving the test room, he’d texted the random number from last night, and four hours later still had no sign of a reply. Poor guy was probably off researching restraining orders right now. 

‘Dean?’ He looked up, at Sam who was now openly staring at him. He cleared his throat and dropped the phone, shaking his head. ‘You okay man?’ 

‘Course. Come on, you need to finish off that essay, I know you didn’t get it all done the other night. And then I have a super urgent appointment to kick your ass at Mario Kart that I really can’t be late for.’ Sam grinned and jumped down off the bench, tossing the carton in the trash as he hastily made for the prime real estate of the single sofa with all of the gawky grace of a new-born giraffe still getting used to its legs. 

‘In your dreams, dork.’ 

~~~~

_We are free indeed. Well done for getting through that exam, it was difficult._

Dean jumped as his phone buzzed against the hard wood of his bedside table. The room was dim, lit only by the small reading lamp beside him. He’d crept off to bed an hour earlier, after making sure Sam was sorted for his calculus test the next morning. The local high school didn’t finish school until almost a full week after the college, and it was strange having so little to do after being so consistently busy for so long over the entire of the previous semester. He picked up the phone, wincing at the bright light. 

**Yeah, it was. Hope it went okay for you too**

_Not sure. Still, as long as we’ve done our best, that’s all we can do._

**Ha, yeah, well. I suppose so**

Cas frowned at the dismissive reply. He’d taken his time in replying, but surely this stranger couldn’t be annoyed at him for that? He curled up on the sofa where he lounged, laptop balanced precariously on his legs under the comforter over him. The television in the corner droned on quietly, some inane late-night talk show filling in the silence nicely as he tapped away on his phone. 

_Something I said?_

**No, not you. Just not much to celebrate yet, I need to do well on this test to keep my scholarship.**

As soon as Dean hit send on the message he wished he could claw it back. It was late, he was tired and he surely should not be held accountable for pouring all this rubbish onto a complete stranger who didn’t even nearly ask to hear all of his problems. He was debating whether to send another message apologizing or simply burn his phone and bury the ashes when a reply came back. 

_Ah. That must be tough, sorry. I’m sure you’ll have done fine though, all that studying must have paid off._

**Last-minute panic, remember? But thanks, I appreciate that man.**

_Well, I think you don’t seem the type to leave it all to the last minute :)_

Cas dropped the phone and groaned. What on earth was he doing? This was all Gabe’s fault, he wasn’t even going to reply in the first place, and now he was subjecting this poor kid to the worst display of awkward over-familiar statements that had ever existed. Still though, full ride scholarships were notoriously competitive and rare at their school, especially for science based subjects, and he’d never met anybody with one yet who wasn’t scarily organised, clever and seriously mature beyond their years. Personally he struggled to keep on top of organising his underwear drawer, let alone his life. Some people just seemed to have it all together. 

**I guess I’m not, really. Just been busy lately, as ever**

_At least we can all have a break now for a while._

**Yeah. Home for the holidays?**

_I think so yeah, if I can get a ride._

**What, you don’t drive?**

_Not exactly._

**The hell does that mean?**

_I think that’s a story for another day, stranger._

**Hey, I said, names Dean.**

**Wait, there’s gonna be another day? You’re not running for the hills with a restraining order? Cool**

_Restraining order?? Not yet, anyhow, stranger-Dean._

**I’ll hold you to that then.**

_You?_

**…me?**

_Are you heading home for the holidays?_

**Ah, right. Well, maybe. It’s kind of a long story.**

_Another day then._

**Another day. Right now I’m kind of exhausted and I need to sleep, as much as I’m loving this convo**

_Sorry! Goodnight Dean. Good talk._

**Night Cas.**

~~~~

‘Good talk?’ Castiel hissed out loud, slamming the phone down into the blanket in frustration. It beeped quietly in protest. ‘Good talk??’ he asked the empty room, cringing at his own awkwardness. This kid must be a saint to put up with this level of rubbish almost-flirting, any normal person would have deleted his number ages ago, or else put it up on the internet and rightfully exposed his shameful conversational skills. 

‘Good talk’ he muttered, shaking his head as he pulled his laptop towards him once more, opening up the academic paper that he’d been resolutely ignoring all night. Pitiful.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Apologies this has taken a while to upload, i've been rather busy these past few weeks! Hope you enjoy. 
> 
> Sam - Underlined
> 
> Dean - **Bold**
> 
> Cas - _Italics_

Call Me Cas – Chapter 3

 

9.21am 

FOUR NEW MESSAGES

 

FROM: Sammy

Hey, I’m heading out downtown today with Ruby and Kev, I’ll not be home late. Did you sleep through your alarm this morning?

FROM: Sammy

Also why is your alarm tone still ‘Cherry Pie’ like seriously Dean

FROM: Sammy

You are an actual parody of yourself I am so embarrassed to call you my brother sometimes

FROM: Sammy

I’ll call when I’m on my way home later xx

~~~~  
‘Man, you seriously need to get laid’ 

Dean scoffed and threw his napkin across the table, where Benny and Victor were both wedged into the booth opposite him, seemingly overcoming their cramped conditions with the sheer will-power and joy that came with giving him hell about every aspect of his life. The diner was mostly quiet slightly before the mid-day rush, and the waitress had been overly attentive since they arrived, showering them with quick service and unnecessarily generous portions of fries. 

Still, Dean considered as he gulped down a mouthful of watery soda, it wasn't exactly surprising. Between them Benny and Victor represented highly respected top positions in one of the most popular and prestigious fraternity branches at the university and were well known to most people locally, as much for their intimidating good looks as for their unlikely close friendship. With Benny a passionately devoted Veterinary Science major with a tendency to unwittingly seduce everything in his path, sexuality be damned, and Victor a terrifyingly organised Public Administration and Criminology major with a love of guns and tequila, they made an odd pair even without Dean adding himself to the mix. 

‘I’m jus’ saying,’ Benny drawled, ‘If you actually came to a damn party once in a while, you might manage to get some actual action, instead of resorting to phone sex.’

‘I have to agree Dean, phone sex is pretty nineties.’ Dean narrowed his eyes at the other man, who merely shrugged and downed a fistful of fries in one go, speech muffled around them. ‘It’s true!’ 

‘It’s not freaking phone sex!’ he retaliated, briefly wondering if he had anything else left to throw across the booth before conceding that his burger was too precious to waste on the assholes he supposedly called his friends. ‘We’re just talking, nothing weird. It’s… nice’ he finished lamely. Victor raised an eyebrow cynically and brushed some crumbs off the arm of his jacket. 

‘His name is what, Cas, did you say?’ Dean nodded. ‘Never heard of him.’ 

‘Nope, me neither. Fake name, I say.’ Benny added, with the air of one making an absolute and final statement on the matter.

‘Oh come on, it’s not as if you two idiots know every single person on campus. I mean Lafitte, you’re only up to what, L in the phone book of your attempt to sleep with them all, right?’ he dodged the balled-up napkin that flew towards his head neatly and straightened back up. ‘Maybe it’s not his first name, or it’s a nickname, I don’t know. But he’s not a weirdo, he seems like a nice kid.’ 

‘Oh my god, what if he’s a freshman.’ Victor asked, looking genuinely aghast. 

‘How in hell could a freshman be taking Bio 301?’ 

‘Maybe he’s like a child genius, like that weird kid your brother hangs around with.’ 

Dean laughed. ‘Who, that kid Kevin? Yeah okay, he’s a legit child genius. But he also lives in a basement flat with his pet chinchilla and can speak Ancient Mandarin fluently, and honestly, I’m not really getting that kind of vibe from Cas.’ 

A quiet lull fell over them as all three turned back to their almost empty plates of food. The diner was starting to fill up, although their waitress still lingered close by, blushing every time Benny smirked in her direction. Victor sighed, finishing off his coke with a slurp. 

‘I mean, it’s good I guess,’ he grudgingly conceded, ‘that you’re having fun with someone.’ 

‘That isn’t us’ Benny added emphatically. Dean wondered if it was even legal for a burly man of his size to have such classically pathetic puppy dog eyes when he wanted to. Damn fool could turn them on at a moment’s notice, it was no wonder people were forming a queue even at 12pm in a boring diner in the middle of an especially boring street. 

‘But,’ Victor continued, ‘you have to tell us if you meet him. Bring him to a party or something – ooh, bring him to New Years! That’ll be awesome, you can like meet at the stroke midnight and act out fucking Cinderella or something, whatever makes y’all happy. Just come to the damn party.’ 

‘As long as he’s good to you’ Benny was still staring at him, serious now. Dean nodded swiftly, reminded suddenly of what had happened to Jo’s last boyfriend who shouted at her once at a frat party in Benny’s vicinity, and winced without meaning to. That had been messy. 

‘I just like it, man. It’s easy, and it’s fun, and there’s no drama involved. I just want to hang onto that for a bit longer.’ 

They nodded, finishing off their food in companionable silence while the buzz of the diner grew around them steadily and Benny launched into an anecdote about all the antics he’d managed to miss on the night of their final exam a few days previously, somehow involving half a dozen tequila slammers, a very confused barman and no less than three baby goats, and Dean settled back to listen, the easy conversation of his friends washing over him and lightening his mood more than he’d thought possible with his exam results and their associated stresses still hanging over his head. 

~~~~

_Distract me, quick_

**From what, exactly?**

_I have a ‘family skype meeting’ to attend and I’m hoping that if I look incredibly busy and important on my phone, I won’t have to reveal that I have nothing to contribute to the family holiday newsletter._

**Wow dude, we live in very different worlds don’t we**

_If yours doesn’t involve discussing Christmas dinner seating plans with my 89 year old Aunt Muriel, consider me signed up right now._

**Gladly ;) although I can’t promise anything. Your Aunt Muriel sounds pretty smokin**

_You’d be perfect for each other I’m sure._

**So you managed to get a ride home for xmas then?**

_My brother is driving me up, but we’re only staying for two days. That’s enough for both of us until spring break._

**Oh you have a brother? cool. I do too, he’s a douche but he’s alright.**

_A surprisingly accurate summation of all four of mine._

**Whew, crowded at your house I take it.**

_I’m one of 6, including my sister Anna as well. Most of us live away from home now, but it was a busy household when I was younger definitely. What about you, just the one?_

**Yeah, just Sammy. He’s a complete dork, but he’s my responsibility. He’s a good kid really.**

_I imagine it must be nice to have a younger sibling to feel protective of. I used to wish I wasn’t the youngest of my family when I was a child._

**Awwwww. You’re telling me big strong Cas is the baby of the family? That’s adorable.**

_…I am not adorable._

**I’m sure.**

_Have you decided if you’re going home for Christmas yet?_

**I see you there, changing the subject. Fine, yes I am. We’re heading up on Christmas eve, staying for about a week. I’ll be back here for new years tho**

_Who’s we?_

Dean paused before going to automatically answer the question. He hadn’t mentioned yet that Sammy actually lived with him, unwillingly to explain the entirety of their messy situation over short messages. How do you casually tell an almost complete stranger that you’re the legal guardian of a kid brother only 4 years younger than you because your mom died when he was younger and your dad drank himself to death two years ago? It wasn’t exactly family newsletter material, he thought grimly, fingers hovering above the keypad. 

**Another day?**

_Sure, Dean. Another day._

**We’re getting to have quite a bit to talk about another day**

_That’s good. Save it all up for when my brother Lucien corners me and insists on telling me all about his recent mind-numbingly boring missionary work in the Congo on Christmas Day. I’ll need even more of a distraction then._

**Not gonna lie, your family sounds even weirder than mine, and that’s a pretty high bar to jump.**

_I bet they’re not. Three years ago my older sister sued my oldest brother and stole half of his nationwide food production business. That thanksgiving dinner was an especially fun one._

**Ha! Last year my uncle Bobby took a week off work to build an underground bomb shelter in his back yard, by hand, ‘Just in case’. Pretty sure he’s on at least 6 government watch lists by now.**

_I see that, and raise you the time my brother Gabriel dropped out of Harvard Law School to ‘find himself’, as he told Dad. What he actually did was run around Europe for 6 months and end up bartending for a sex club in Amsterdam, before becoming a waiter in a Chinese restaurant in north Texas._

**Okay, good play. However that still doesn’t beat the time my cousin Jo went on a solo trip to Vegas when she was only 17… she convinced her mom she was at church camp. I had to go and collect her from the Grand Canyon 3 weeks later, with a 45 year old drag queen and an inflatable dinghy. That was an awesome car ride home.**

_I’m not sure I concede just yet, but I do have to go. Anna has noticed I’m laughing and has decided family business is more important than talking to you, although I can’t say I agree. Goodbye Dean._

**Bye Cas.**  
~~~~  
‘I just don’t get it Cas,’ Meg asked, glancing at him sideways from the other end of the crowded couch where they had sprawled to watch movies a few hours previously, snacks and essentials piled between them haphazardly. ‘You don’t even know the guy.’ 

Cas contemplated her thoughtfully, chewing away on his popcorn as the title screen of ‘Saw III’ played noisily in the background, reminding them to press play over and over again.

‘It’s just… nice.’ He shrugged, and Meg shook her head before grabbing the bowl from him and settling back down against the pillows and grabbing the remote to press play.  
‘Whatever. Long as you’re happy I suppose.’ 

Cas smiled softly as the ominous horror music filled the dark room. He thought maybe, for the first time in a good long while, he perhaps could be again.


	4. Chapter 4

It didn’t take long for the balmy Texas winter to finally start to crack around the edges and let the colder weather seep through as the holidays grew ever closer, and the lull of laziness and thinly-veiled relief that haunted the college town to break as students began to travel home to their families. Most were only staying until the New Year, heading back to University for the big start of the year parties thrown by the fraternities on campus, so the second week of December saw an already dwindling student population in the area.

Dean had finally given in to Sam and Ellen’s nagging and set a date to travel home, and was even sullenly shopping for Christmas presents while Sam bounded alongside him like an overgrown Labrador. It wasn’t that he was an entire scrooge as such, but Christmas took up an awful lot of time and money that they didn’t always have. It seemed like it had only been a few days since Thanksgiving. Although at least, he thought fondly, now Sam was a bit older he didn’t have to worry so much about making sure he had the kind of Christmas a young kid should always have. Their dad hadn’t been too big on the whole festive spirit either.

‘Hey man, are you finished with your shopping now?’ Dean turned away from the gaudy shop-front he’d been staring at blankly, and saw Sam tapping his foot impatiently next to him, his phone in one hand. 

‘Uh.’ He quickly recapped the contents of the bulky bags in his arms. A one hundred and eight piece socket set for Bobby (‘what the hell does he need over a hundred types of screw for, Dean?’), a set of carbon steel kitchen knives for Ellen (‘do you really want to give her _weapons_ when you tell her you’re leaving before January?’), a new silver hip flask for Jo (‘you are officially the worst influence ever. It’s a wonder Bobby and Ellen even let you in the house’) and a few smaller bits and pieces for their family friends back home. ‘Yeah, I guess, except for you.’ 

‘Well, good.’ Sam nodded primly and shouldered his own bags. ‘Cause I’ve only got you to buy for now too, so we should split up and meet back home later on okay bye!’ He turned hurriedly and made to rush off down the street, slipping nimbly through the throngs of shoppers with a grace very unbecoming to his gangly frame before Dean had even finished processing the end of the sentence. He stood, gaping after his brother’s frame as it all but ran away from him. It was still weird, seeing Sam becoming so much more independent of him lately. He turned back to the window and came face to face with a five-foot tall dancing Santa figurine, holding an almost neon green bunch of holly as its mechanical voice sang about snow and chilly evenings, while shoppers walked by in light jackets and short scarves. 

‘Fuck this’ he muttered decisively, and turned heel to the nearest coffee shop that wasn’t playing Christmas carols on a loop. Not that he was keeping track.

~~~~

3.07pm

NEW MESSAGE 

**What would you get an overgrown 16 year old nerd for Christmas?**

_A girlfriend?_

**Ew, dude, that’s my brother. Besides, don’t you think I’ve tried that already?**

_So picky. Well, failing that, I’d say maybe a book he likes?_

**that’s actually not a bad idea. Thanks.**

_Any time :) Are you back at home now?_

**Nah, heading up tomorrow until the day before new years eve. You?**

Cas glared over at the driver’s seat of the car, where Gabriel was trying his best to pretend that he wasn’t leaning over every three seconds to try and steal glances at his phone, in between belting out the chorus to Wham’s ‘Last Christmas’. The rickety car was long overdue a tune-up, and the cheery Christmas music blasting from the radio filled the air cloyingly as they tore up the freeway, the first hints of snow beginning to drift gently down onto the windshield as they made their way further north. 

‘Can you just keep your eyes on the road for once?’ he snapped, as Gabriel painted on his best attempt at an innocent face. 

‘Who, me? I’m not even here! Just pretend I’m not here!’ 

Cas sighed and shook his head, typing out his reply as his brother broke into a terrifyingly energetic rendition of ‘Christmas Wrapping’ as the track changed over on the CD player. 

_Unfortunately, we’re on our way._

**Unfortunately?**

_Believe me, eleven hours in a car with my brother and you’d be feeling pretty unfortunate too._

**Ouch. I’d much rather be driving my own car, but we’re flying this year, urgh.**

_Yeah well, for me it was either take Gabe’s car or do the journey on my bike_

**Your WHAT**

_Oh. Well, there goes my mysterious demeanour. I can drive a car, but I only own a motorbike._

**What model?**

_Harley Seventy-Two Sportster, custom typhoon wheels and front brake rotors. You know bikes?_

**Enough to know that’s a damn nice bike. Wow.**

_Thanks. She doesn’t get out almost as much as I’d like to._

_…It. It’s an it, not a she. Please forget you saw that._

**Don’t worry ;) I’ll keep it between me and Baby**

**(that’s my car)**

_I got that, Dean._

~~~~  
The majority of passengers on the four hour flight to Bismarck, North Dakota would likely describe it as desperately uneventful and slightly boring. Almost all of them, however, would have a comment or concerned question regarding the 6’ 1’ man who had been spotted three aisles from the front, clinging onto his seat for dear life and humming classic rock tunes under his breath throughout the entire flight, sat next to a mortified looking teenager in need of a haircut, who spent the entire flight reading a book on Texas legislature. Still, Dean figured, it was an improvement on his previous experiences flying. He’d stayed sober and not shouted too violently at anybody, so that could only be better. 

Possibly worse than the flight however, was the shock of the almost 30 degree temperature drop, along with the foot of snow on the ground upon they encountered upon dragging their cases out of the airport, wrapped up in as many layers as they’d been able to fit into the carry-on luggage. Across the street, several brave taxis lined up on the iced over road, the drivers inside grasping steaming cups of coffee through thick thermal gloves. 

It was a world away from central Texas, Dean thought, a familiar warmth settling in his chest even as the frost began to form on his inefficiently insulated gloves. It might be a world away, but it was the centre of Bobby and Ellen’s world, which was always reassuringly present and open to them should they ever need it. 

Tentatively, with a few drinks in him and caught in an exceptionally good mood, Dean might even sometimes describe it as feeling a little like home. 

~~~~

1.04am

NEW MESSAGE

_Hello Dean. Are you still awake?_

**Yeah, watching a seriously terrible Christmas movie with my cousin Jo.**

_I don’t want to disturb you._

**Fuck, I wish you would. These misfit toys are damn terrifying and she keeps throwing Cheetos at me.**

**I’m gonna have nightmares about this shit, I’m not even kidding.**

**Cas? You still there?**

_Yeah, sorry._

**What’s up?**

_I really hate the holidays._

**How come?**

_Ha, I could be here all night._

_Mostly though, let’s just say my older brothers and I, we’re not exactly all on the same page, re: my lifestyle choices and sexuality. I hate having to put on a front all week. ___

__**Oh. Well I’m not so keen on Christmas myself to be honest.** _ _

___Really? I thought you were looking forward to seeing your family?_ _ _

__**Yeah, well. Mostly my family’s just me and my brother, and I’m happy enough with that.** _ _

___You’re lucky._ _ _

__**Am I?** _ _

___In different ways than you might think. Goodnight Dean._ _ _

__**Goodnight?** _ _

__Cas sighed as he tucked the phone under his pillow, quickly dimming the bright light in the pitch black room where the heavy blackout curtains were certainly doing their job as promised. His childhood room seemed so much larger and foreboding now, emptier of his books and possessions, but full as ever with the suffocating promise of sheer presence to his entire family. Across the room in the other large bed, Gabriel lay snoring loudly, arms flung wildly above his head where he sprawled. All along the hall, various siblings were neatly tucked into identical beds – some with their spouses, such as Zach and his wife Sophie, and Raphael and Hope in the best room on the end, their twin daughters sharing the adjoining suite. Anna had somehow managed to wrangle a room on her own, as had Lucian, although he guessed that the latter had come about just so nobody had to listen to any more of his stories about his missionary work in the far side of nowhere. Their father, as always, commandeered the main bedroom, while three different great-aunts took up the remaining beautiful guest bedrooms._ _

__It always had amazed him, he thought grimly, how a house so large and full of people could make him feel so shut out and alone. Other people at college talked about their big families fondly, telling stories about fighting over the bathroom with their siblings, or all piling into bed together on Halloween to tell ghost stories to one another. Cas had never felt more alien than the moment he had realised that although he had one of the largest, most prolific families of anyone he’d ever met, he had next to nothing in common with these people, having grown up with his own en-suite bathroom since the age of 4 and brothers who would rather roughly shake him awake to drag him to midnight mass on Christmas eve than play pranks on each other and share a sleeping space. It was a different way of life altogether, and he resented it more than he’d ever admit. If he’d thought to try and bring Balthazar home for the holidays, they certainly wouldn’t have been offered the pride of place guest room. Probably a camp bed in the den, if he was lucky._ _

__His phone flashed bright again and Gabriel murmured restlessly in his sleep, turning over and away from the blaze of sudden light. Cas scrambled for it, and retreated under the covers with it to squint at the message on screen in a gesture that had his stomach lurching with nostalgia for the days when he used to hide from his nannies and read with dimmed torches under the covers until the early hours._ _

__[MMS Message - Click Here to View](https://drive.google.com/file/d/0B7AJHXAVTxwLdDhOXy1zMm51N0U/edit?usp=sharing) _ _

__Cas almost choked on his own throat as he opened the message, trying desperately to stifle his laughter._ _

___That’s not fair, I almost woke up my brother._ _ _

__**That is soooo not my problem** _ _

___I’m going to get you back. When you least expect it, the next time you need to be super serious and silent, I’m going to make you wish you were never born you’ll be laughing so hard._ _ _

__**Is that a threat?** _ _

___It’s a promise ;)_ _ _

__Huddled under a pile of Bobby’s blankets on the lumpy old sofa, Dean grinned fondly at his phone, glad to have made his faraway friend smile at least a little. Next to him, Jo looked up from where she leaned on his shoulder and peered over at his messages. Sam was flat out asleep on the chair next to them, legs hanging haphazardly over the arm and sides._ _

__‘Dude, exactly how many messages have you sent this guy?_ _

__‘I dunno, couple of hundred maybe? Not that many.’ Jo coughed around her mouthful of soda and looked up at him, baffled. ‘What?’_ _

__‘Not that MANY? Dean, I think that’s more than I sent my last boyfriend in the entirety of my last relationship. You are so into him.’_ _

__Dean swatted her away, locking his phone and placing it gingerly on the arm of the sofa out of her reach. She snorted and un-muted the TV, the lowered volume of the movie resuming its soft melody in the background as the film came to an end. It was easier to just ignore her, rather than tell lies at Christmas-time Dean thought sleepily. That wouldn’t be very holiday spirited of him._ _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [This is Cas's motorbike.](http://s1.cdn.autoevolution.com/images/news/gallery/2013-harley-davidson-sportster-seventy-two-carries-on-the-heritage-photo-gallery_2.jpg) Dean is correct, it is indeed a damn nice bike.
> 
> The movie Dean and Jo are watching, if you hadn't guessed, is the 1964 holiday TV special 'Rudolph the Red-Nosed Reindeer'. I like to think Bobby has had it on VHS in the attic for years, where it sat dusty and undisturbed until last year when Jo discovered it and turned watching it with her cousins into a semi-ironic holiday tradition. Dean genuinely hates the puppets, while Jo finds them endearing. Sam doesn't really mind it, although he hates how catchy the songs are.


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Dean - **Bold**
> 
> Cas - _Italics_

Call Me Cas – Chapter 5

The early morning light was cold and thin through the parted curtains, filtering through the large room where Cas had been comfortably curled up and sleeping, tangled between layers of brushed wool blankets and quilts. Had been, that is, until five minutes ago when his phone had started blaring an ABBA song three inches from his unprepared ear. Gabriel, unfortunately, had not been around to blame for the horrible shock, having snuck out early the night before to meet a friend from high school and hadn’t yet come back, so he could only assume one of Raphael’s less than angelic twins had somehow gotten hold of his cell when he wasn’t looking. He stared at the dimly lit ceiling above, brain still slowly catching up to the fact that he was actually awake at 8am, on a Sunday morning, during Christmas break. 

‘Castiel? You didn’t hear a word of that, did you?’

‘Can’t imagine what gave you that idea.’ Cas yawned, resisting the very strong urge to hang up the phone immediately and go back to sleep. ‘Tell me again why you’re even awake right now? You’re a sophomore, you barely even need to be awake this early during the week, let alone a weekend. A Christmas weekend.’

Kevin sighed deeply in a manner rather ill-suited to his slight seventeen year old self. ‘I have four tutoring appointments with high school freshman today, violin practice at 11, lacrosse at 1 and a mathletes semi-final at 4. 8am til 10.30am on Sundays is designated ‘chill out time’, all of which you should already know.’ 

‘Did you just do air quotes? I don’t think that’s the appropriate use of those.’

‘Shut up. So are you going to tell me when you’re coming back, or not?’ 

‘Not. Why do you need to know again?’ 

‘You are such a dick sometimes, I swear. Look, new year’s day is literally the only time I’m going to be able to see Channing, but this kid I’m tutoring is only available then to go over his finals, and his parents pay me in bulk so if I don’t show I’m going to lose him for the whole of next semester.’ 

‘Breathe please, Kevin.’ 

‘I’m breathing. Will you do it? I’ll pay you.’

‘I have money, Kevin. I guess I’ll see if Gabe will bring me back earlier than we planned. It’s not like either of us are keen to stay here any longer than we have to.’ 

‘Yes, yes! That’s what I thought, it’s not as if you even like your family anyway, so this means you can come back sooner’

‘…’

‘Okay, that came out harsher than I meant it. I’m very sorry. I haven’t slept since Friday.’ 

Cas sighed deeply. ‘Go and sleep, Kevin. I’ll see you on Tuesday when you get back.’ He hung up before Kevin could reply and stared up at the high ceiling above. On one hand it was nice to have an excuse to be away from his family earlier than expected, but the prospect of spending New Year’s Eve alone having an early night in his little flat and then tutoring some horrifyingly dedicated AP student the next morning was almost depressing enough to make him consider trying to get a life. Almost enough to consider texting Meg and asking if she would come keep him company, or, god forbid, have some plans involving a party, with other humans, that he could tag along to. Almost. He wasn’t making any promises, or listening to the tiny voice in his head, which was encouraging such ridiculous things as asking his texting friend his plans for New Years.

As he considered, cool air rushed through the room near the foot of the bed as the unlocked sash window crept slowly open from the outside, a seemingly disembodied, pale white hand rising up from beneath the ivy underneath the sill. Cas tucked his feet back into the blankets and watched, bored, as his very drunk brother stumbled in mostly sideways through the opening, years of practice making his entry into the room impressively noiseless despite his obvious intoxication. Gabriel straightened up with little conviction and stared at him, trying to brush off the grass stains from his jeans and missing his own legs almost entirely. 

‘Good night?’ Cas asked, eyebrow raised as he took in his older brother’s appearance - lack of shoes, glittery eyebrows, purple bunny ears and all. Gabriel shrugged and stumbled over to the bed in the other corner of the room, crashing down onto it gracefully. ‘S’alright. Christmas happy hour’s all the time.’ he murmured into the pillows softly. ‘I’ma sleep now. Got flu, right?’ 

‘As ever, you have a terrible bout of flu. Until lunchtime of course, when your recovery and reintroduction to society is nothing short of miraculous.’ 

‘Good work Cassy.’ Gabriel nodded, eyes shut already, preparing for what looked like a much needed bout of sleep. The pillow which flew at his face a few seconds later in retaliation at the much-hated nickname, however, seemed likely to disagree with that. 

****

‘Nope.’ 

‘But-‘

‘No.’ 

‘Look, just lis-‘

‘Do I need to say it in Spanish? Prohibido. Non. Nein. You are not of legal drinking age, you’re not going and that’s absolutely final.’ Ellen turned back to the stove, giving the pot of cinnamon oatmeal on it a vicious prod with the wooden spoon in her hand. Jo slumped back onto her chair, glaring up at her mother. Across the table, Dean and Sam sat awkwardly, trying to look anywhere other than the two bristling women in front of them. Bobby, however, sat comfortably next to them, clearly having developed some sort of willful immunity to the shouting match which would inevitably be starting soon. 

‘You know I go to parties all the time during term, right? You can’t stop me.’

‘Oh don’t give me that young lady, you know for a fact that I’m not trying to stop you going to any old stupid party. You think I don’t know what goes on at these frat house New Year’s parties? You think I don’t know the kind of people who’ll be there? You’re 18 years old, you’re not invincible.’ 

‘Oh really, Mom, and where exactly did you learn about frat parties? MTV? Saved by the Bell: The College Years? Give me a break.’ 

‘Honey you seriously don’t want me to tell you where I learned about what goes on in frat houses. I was 18 once too, y’know.’

‘BOBBY WOULD YOU TELL HER oh my GOD’ Jo thundered at her step-father, who raised an eyebrow and continued eating his French toast peacefully, as she stormed out of the kitchen. Dean cleared his throat at the suddenly quiet room, as Ellen continued preparing the remainder of breakfast as if her daughter wasn’t currently making it her mission to slam every door in the house as hard as physically possible – which, for such a petite little thing, Dean wondered, seemed to be impressively hard. Ellen plated up and sat down in an empty chair at the rickety old wooden table, looking over at him as she did so. He blushed and stared back, unsure of how much of the blame for this was going to be on him, as she sighed and shook her head. 

‘Look Dean, I know you’d never let any harm come to her, so don’t make this about that, okay?’ 

He nodded carefully. ‘They’re really not bad guys you know. Victor, and Benny, they police the door real well, and deal with any crashers real quick.’

‘The very fact that they need to police the door at all though, is what worries me. I know she’s technically an adult, and I know I can’t stop her from doing what she wants, but I’ll be damned if I’m going to be party to all of her bad decisions.’ Ellen rubbed a tired hand over her hair, and nodded towards Bobby. ‘You see my point, right?’ 

He shrugged and took a long gulp of his strong black coffee before answering. ‘She’s stubborn as you, but she ain’t stupid. Besides, Dean ain’t exactly legal for drinkin’ either, or did you forget that part?’ 

‘I damn well didn’t, but since I’ve got no legal rights to keep him in this house, I figure there’s not a whole lot I can do about that.’ 

‘Only six months off, anyhow’ Dean murmured resentfully, wishing for what was far from the first time that he’d been born a little earlier. Those six months had one time been one of the major barriers in the fight to become Sam’s legal guardian back when he was just barely 18 and trying to convince a court that he could take care of a tetchy 14 year old as well as himself. It had been a close thing for a while, talking to endless social workers and grief counsellors and overpaid lawyers, all desperate to prove that he was incompetent on some basis or another. 

‘Besides, it’ll do Sam good to have some company til school starts again,’ Ellen smiled at the younger boy, who nodded awkwardly, all thumbs with his breakfast all of a sudden. ‘And they can fly back together, rather than him have to go separate. Wouldn’t you rather that, Dean?’ 

Dean scowled, unable to deny that he didn’t want Sam flying alone, but even more unwilling to admit that he hadn’t wanted to fly back on his own either. It wasn’t even worth arguing it though, since Ellen knew he would choose Sam’s needs over his own desire for his cousin’s companionship any day. Still didn’t mean it was fair to play that card though.

‘That’s settled then. Dean, we’ll drive you to the airport in the morning, so make sure your bag’s packed. You call us when you land safe, and Sam and Jo will stay here ‘til next week, then fly back together.’ Ellen finished off her breakfast with a less than subtle air of triumph, as Jo continued to slam around upstairs, shaking the kitchen ceiling gently with every thump and stomp on the old floorboards. Dean winced as a particularly loud bang shook a light spray of dust onto the table top from above, and looked past his brother at the frosted windows behind the table. One of the only useful things his Dad had ever told him, he pondered, was the ability to well and truly know when to quit, and he was leaving this alone as much as possible. Ellen could be pretty scary sometimes. 

****

**Goddamn I hate flying.**

_Still better than the car ride with my brother. I’m already plotting ways to overthrow him if he sings one more version of ‘Blue Christmas’_

**Wait, you’re already on your way back to campus? Me too**

Yes, something came up.

**Oh. Something good, or something bad?**

_Just something, not good or bad. I’m quite glad to be away though._

**Me too, kinda. It’s nice to see them but it always reminds me why I love living alone so much.**

_You don’t have roommates?_

Dean sat on the edge of the hard airport chair, foot tapping insistently and somewhat uncontrollably. Bobby and Ellen had dropped him off an hour previously, waving goodbye with a cheerful Sam and a persistently sulky Jo, who had made him promise to update her on all of the goings on at the party as they happened. His flight had, however, been predictably delayed by bad weather, which was not helping his nerves. Neither was the turn this conversation had taken either though, although he supposed he only had himself to blame for that one. He took a deep breath. Make or break time. 

**Another day already then, I guess. I live with my brother, just the two of us. I’m his guardian, technically, although he’s only a few years younger than me. I’ve looked after him for the last two years since our dad died. We’ve got a flat near campus, and he’s in high school, so we make it work between us.**

Silence. Intimidating, formidable radio silence had Dean just about ready to down the nearest bottle of scotch to calm down his stupid heart rate. He jumped up as the overhead tannoy called his flight number to boarding, pocketing his cell as he grabbed his bags and made for the gate entrance. The sinking feeling in his stomach grew more as he passed through security, through the waiting area and onto his seat on the overcrowded plane. It wouldn’t be the first time his complicated living situation had put off a potential friend – or more, but he wasn’t going to think about that. That was ancient history. And if this kid with his own messed up family had decided he was too good to deal with his baggage as well, then he could just go and shove his righteousness right up his-

_Oh wow, that’s pretty cool of you. Sorry, was passing through a tunnel, terrible service in this area. I’ll talk to you later on when we get back, yeah?_

Dean stared at the phone in his hand, ignoring the flight assistant next to him who was pointedly staring at the sign above asking him to switch off his mobile devices. Huh. 

****  
‘Benny, no.’ 

‘Benny, yes.’

‘Goddamn it, Benny, we said no messing with this! You don’t even know if it’s the right one.’ 

‘Look brother, that’s the beauty of it. I’m just sendin’ out an invitation to a cute gal, who is a verifiable acquaintance of ours, and who may or may not be bringing along some housemates. Nobody can accuse me of anything.’ 

‘I can accuse you of anything I like, right here, right now. I’ll accuse you of everything.’

‘Yeah, but nobody listens to you, Vicky.’

‘For the last time, would you STOP calling me that!’ 

‘Nah.’

‘Well at the very least, pass me that keg. There’s still plenty to do before tomorrow night.’

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So this chapter is just a bit of a catch up with everyone and what they're up to! Thanks for all of the comments and kudos, it's all really appreciated and i'm so glad people are enjoying this story. I'm off work for a little while now, so I'm hoping to get another chapter up pretty soon before i'm super busy again, so watch this space!


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> _Cas_   
> **Dean**   
>  Meg

It had been a little too optimistic, Dean reasoned, to expect that just because Sam wasn’t there, he would be able to get some peace and quiet for a few hours before getting ready to go over to Victor and Benny’s later that evening. After an admittedly smooth flight and a couple of hours sleep, he’d almost been looking forward to a little alone time, rare as it was. Maybe make some pancakes, take a walk to check out some of the less hectic early sales in town, and spend some time sorting out his outfit for the party. Never one to be called unoriginal, Victor had reverently reviewed the fancy dress themes of all of the recent parties they’d thrown and came up with a completely new one, and as much as Dean outwardly rolled his eyes at being told to dress as ‘what he’d wanted to be when he was younger’, he had to admire the commitment his friend had to pulling off such a big gathering whilst still making sure everyone felt included and welcome. 

Staring forlornly at the bedroom door in front of him, Dean sighed and glanced at his watch. Half an hour was more than enough warning. He banged on the door with a closed fist, hand pausing over the handle as he yelled through the thin wood.

‘Charlie, I’m coming in. So help me god, if you aren’t wearing pants yet we are gonna to be having words.’ 

Dean opened the door to his best friend’s bedroom and peered in cautiously. In the middle of a nest of blankets on the unmade bed, a small red-headed girl glared up at him over her laptop, noise-cancelling headphones firmly slammed onto her unruly hair. Around her the room showed signs of disarray, which Dean internally winced at as he brushed aside several candy bar wrappers to sit on the bed. Charlie had obviously been crying recently, eyes ringed painfully where she sat, intent on ignoring his presence in the room. He reached over and, not unkindly, took off the headphones, setting them gently on the bed between them. Charlie caught his eye, and sighed. 

‘How did you even get in? If you picked the lock again my roommate is gonna freak.’

‘Oh come on, that was one time. Besides, Hannah was the one who called me. She said you were wallowing, and clearly she wasn’t lying.’ 

Charlie shrugged sadly. ‘Got my games, got my pillows, got my snacks. What else does a girl need?’ Her voice wavered slightly, and Dean noticed for the first time the framed photo tucked into the blankets beside her, which usually rested on the bedside table. Charlie noticed his eyes flicker down, and shoved it behind her. 

‘You haven’t heard from her then I take it?’ 

Charlie dropped the act at long last, shutting her laptop and flinging herself back onto the stack of pillows behind her. ‘Who just up and leaves like that, Dean? Five months - and all I get is a lousy goodbye, and during the holidays, and all. Did it mean nothing to her at all? I bought her – her- favourite childhood book for Christmas, and you know what she got me? A gift card. To Gap. I’ve never been to Gap in my life.’

Dean patted the nearest part of her, an exposed ankle, awkwardly. ‘Look, you’re better off without her if that’s how she’s going to treat you. And what sort of name is Dorothy, anyway?’ 

‘Oh shut up. I know you never liked her.’ 

‘Clearly you should trust in my supreme judgement more often then, eh?’ He peered over, and received a weak smile in return. ‘Come on, get up. There’s coffee getting cold in the kitchen. Unless you’ve got a coffee machine hidden in this mess somewhere?’ 

Charlie stuck out her tongue at him and sat up. ‘I’m fully entitled to my wallowing time. Girls suck. I suppose you’re here to drag me to the New Year’s party as well?’ 

‘Well, now you mention it…’

‘Dean Winchester, you really are a shockingly bad liar.’ 

‘Yeah, well, you’re a shitty wing-woman, but I don’t complain do I. Not even when you sleep with my date.’

Finally she laughed, and threw a cushion at him. ‘You’re not still hung up over Bela, are you? Dude, get over it, she was bad news anyway.’ She glanced over to her open wardrobe, scanning the clothes, shoes and assorted accessories that were half spilling onto the carpet. ‘I hate to say it, but I have absolutely nothing to wear.’ 

****

_What do you mean, what I wanted to be when I was younger?_

IDK, like how six year olds want to be a fireman or a goblin or a tube of toothpaste, for all I know. It’s a dumb theme. 

_All I wanted to be when I was younger was away from my family._

Cas you are such a downer. Put on a fucking spiderman outfit or something and come over already, or I’m going to drink alllll of this wine on my own.

_You wouldn’t. And I never liked Spiderman, I didn’t watch a lot of cartoons. What are you wearing?_

Ooh Cassie, wouldn’t you like to know?

_Meg, if you don’t help me you can go on your own for all I care._

Fine, fine, I’ve got a nurse’s outfit that my roommate lent me. Happy?

_You wanted to be a nurse when you were young?_

For about five minutes, in between wanting to be a unicorn and Princess Jasmine. Would you hurry up?

_Okay, I will be there in about half an hour._

Hallelujah. Bring a glass, we’ve only got pint ones left

****

‘So basically he’s about as messed up as you are, lives local, texts back more than once every four days, and is smart enough to be on pre-med.’ Charlie shoved another pin into the front of her wig and goggled at Dean’s reflection in the mirror in front of her. ‘Tell me again why you haven’t eloped already?’ 

Dean shrugged, downing the plastic tumbler of JD and Coke in his hand. Despite being a full year younger than him, Charlie’s naturally flirtatious nature and talent for fake ID creation meant that the Computer Science major always seemed to have alcohol to hand when necessary. 

‘I’ve never even met the guy, not really. He’s probably far too nice for me.’ He prided himself on having a high tolerance, but Charlie had a heavy hand when pouring, and his head was beginning to swim pleasantly. 

‘You’d be an even bigger idiot than usual if you don’t go for this guy on the basis that he might be ‘too nice’ for you. You’re – well, you’re not too bad really, sometimes.’

‘Thanks Charlie, that’s touching. Excuse me while I go bawl my eyes out over how fucking sentimental that was.’ 

‘Have you drank all the Jack already?’ 

‘Nah, it’s on the nightstand. Plus, you know. It’s just - why did he have to be called Cas? Like what sort of fucking cosmic joke is that?’ 

Charlie poured them both new drinks, stumbling only slightly despite her long dress. After much deliberation she’d decided that the period spent between the ages of 7 and 10 wanting desperately to be an elf, would make the best costume. Nothing to do with the fact that she’d already spent a lot of money on her Arwen costume for Comic Con that year, and it deserved to be worn more than once, she assured a knowing Dean. 

‘Well, it’s probably not short for Cassandra as well. That would be a pretty big coincidence.’ Dean glared at her and took a long gulp. ‘Look, do you want to spend new year’s eve being miserable over your ex-girlfriend in my bedroom, or go to this stupid party, get blind drunk, probably get felt up by Benny, and send some barely legible texts to your sweetie at midnight?’ 

‘The last one. Minus the last part. Wait no, minus the last two parts. Wait, what?’ 

Charlie just laughed at him, plonking down slightly too heavily onto the desk chair in the corner. ‘Come on, finish that one and we’ll head out.’ 

Dean snorted, leaning back on the cushions and accidentally nudging his hat forward a little too far so it fell down over his eyes. He sighed and pushed it back again, the unfamiliar weight of it on his head already beginning to annoy him. Charlie watched him with a fond smile as he fiddled with the strap under his chin, face stylishly half shielded by the wide brim and shirt-sleeves meticulously folded neatly to the elbow. Dean fixed the hat and looked up, catching her staring. 

‘What?’ he snapped, self-conscious all of a sudden beneath her searching gaze.

‘Nothing, tough guy. Let’s just go get atrociously drunk already.’

****  
‘A police officer? Really Vic, that’s the best you could come up with?’ 

Victor shrugged with genuine disinterest, clearly already used to answering the question despite the early hour. It was barely past 9pm, but the house behind him was already filling up nicely, the borrowed sound-system in the back room filling the front hall with wall-shaking bass. The massive house was well suited for parties, Dean had always thought, with its open-plan downstairs areas and pool, and secluded nooks aplenty tucked away on the upper floor. From where they stood in the dimmed hall, he could see possibly the most random assortment of dressed up people he’d ever seen in one place – at a glance, there was an astronaut playing poker with a very serious looking mermaid, a guy in a navy uniform leaning against a wall watching a snooker game in the corner, and, confusingly, a girl simply wearing a banana costume giggling at something on her phone with several friends on one of the sofas. 

‘But I did want to be a police officer!’ Victor attempted to explain, as Charlie laughed at him and squeezed past. ‘Hey, wait, Charlie, you need a stamp, come back here! I can’t call myself an effective risk manager if you aren’t properly admitted!’ he chased after her as she ducked into the kitchen at the end of the hall, her long dress swaying comically as she dashed, leaving Dean laughing alone at the two of them. 

He meandered down after them, passing a couple of smaller rooms full of people talking before reaching the main area where a makeshift DJ had set up beside the open patio doors, filling the common room and the pool area outside with a hammering, clammy beat that cut through the cool night air with a sticky indulgence that strongly reminded Dean of long nights spent on the beach summer just gone. He nodded to a couple of people he recognized from class, and grabbed an unopened beer from a nearby counter as he made his way outside, where he’d spotted Benny lounging by the far side of the pool. Dean squeezed through a group of dancers and flung himself down on a lounge chair beside his friend, who was perched on the poolside in a disheveled outfit he couldn’t quite figure out. Benny grinned up at him as he approached. 

‘Hey there, cowboy,’ he drawled, his thick southern accent sliding around the words so authentically that Dean hardly would have registered that he was being made fun of, had he not recognized the look in his friend’s eye. Dean aimed a half-hearted kick in his direction, but gave up, his head already starting to swim slightly between the music and the already accrued drinks. No doubt Charlie was already half way to passing out in a bathtub already; he should probably keep an eye on her, he thought lazily as he adjusted his sheriff’s badge self-consciously. 

‘And what are you supposed to be, a damn butcher? Man, you must have been a messed up kid.’ Benny only smirked, sparing a quick glance down at his white coat and pants. 

‘Nah, not quite as thrilling m’afraid. At least my parents would be able to say I was always messed up if that were the case. I’m a chef, or least some kinda baker. Actually, could be a doctor, maybe?’ 

‘I can’t decide if it’s sad or totally understandable that you don’t even know which it is.’

‘Ah, Dean-o. The intent’s there at least.’ 

Benny staggered to his feet, teetering dangerously on the edge of the pool. Across the way, an extremely tense looking freshman in a lifeguard costume jumped to his feet, and Dean had to laugh. He’d clearly under-estimated Victor’s neurotic risk management, in assuming the six or seven burly people dressed as lifeguards in the outdoor area were not, in fact, real lifeguards. 

‘You’re drunk my friend.’ 

‘Damn straight.’ Benny shrugged his white jacket back on straight, and made for the slightly safer, less slippery path beside them. ‘But obviously not drunk enough if I’m still almost remembering what I’m supposed to be dressed as. I’m gonna get another drink.’ Dean laid back against the rickety pool chair. 

Clearly it was going to be a long night. 

****

‘Look Cas, would you just go and find someplace to sit, or dance, or drink or something?’ Meg stared at him, exasperation framing her face as neatly as the curtains of dark hair that swung free from beneath her nurse’s cap. Castiel shifted and shrugged. They’d only arrived half an hour ago, and already his eternally flaky friend was suggesting they go on a beer run. Which would be fine, except the last party Meg had left him at to ‘go and grab some bottles, five minutes tops’, he’d not seen her again until the next morning after she had somehow made her way home, minus at least three items of clothing. He seemed destined to be surrounded by wandering drinkers, Cas mused sadly. 

‘I just don’t really know anyone here.’ 

‘So go and find some people to get to know already! Come on, I’ll be right back.’ Meg grinned at the dark guy dressed as a sailor whose arm hers had threaded through. ‘We’ll be right back.’ They squeezed past him in the kitchen, giggling and shoving towards the rear exit of the huge house, leaving Cas standing awkwardly on his own in the busy room. The music was loud even in here, but the people were louder. Over on the kitchen table an intense game of beer pong was going on, refereed by one of the president guys who had organised the party. The less drunk of them, he figured, as he’d last seen the other wearing a cowboy hat and dragging people into the pool house to play strip poker. They seemed like decent guys, he figured, but it wasn’t like he knew them. One of the beer pong contestants landed a near impossible shot and a roar of approval echoed in his ears over the pounding bass. 

‘You gotta admire it really. A whole house full of booze, girls and debauchery and they’ve been playing this dumb tournament for like an hour.’ 

Cas spun around, coming nose to nose with the girl leaning on the counter behind him. She smiled fondly, eyes slightly unfocused and nodded towards the table as she pressed a beer into his hand. 

‘I’m betting on Victor, personally. Three points ahead and not a care in the world.’ 

Cas glanced over, adjusting his jacket awkwardly. ‘Isn’t he the referee though?’ 

‘That’s the beauty of it. He shows up, kicks ass, then steps down and shouts at everyone else for not following the rules properly.’ She swayed slightly, putting out a vague hand to steady herself, coming up short until Cas grabbed out, offering his arm before she toppled over completely. The smile she gave him in return was unexpectedly dazzling. 

‘Hey! That’s nice of you. I’m Charlie. This dress is surprisingly hard to walk in. I mean, I assume it was just as bad at comic con, but I can’t remember most of that. I don’t really ever remember much of comic con. What’s your name? I love your outfit. Hey, do you wanna see my tattoo?’ She wavered slightly once more, teetering until Cas steered her towards a nearby bar stool. 

‘You talk very quickly,’ he mumbled, placing her lightly down. She grinned harder, downing the rest of the drink in her hand. 

‘I know. I do that sometimes, I hear. So hey,’ she continued, clearly unfazed as he shook his head and tried to keep up with the rapidly ongoing conversation. ‘You’re gay, right?’ Cas choked slightly on the beer he’d just taken a swig of. 

‘I- how- do I know you?’ 

‘Nope!’ Charlie laughed, grabbing a nearby girl in a bikini and hula skirt who was squeezing past through the crowd. ‘Hey gorgeous, would you mind grabbing me one of those beers if you’re passing back this way? Thank you so much.’ The girl gaped and nodded, blushing as she hurried off. ‘I’m just kinda good like that. It’s a talent of mine. I knew my bestie was bi before he did, although he is exceptionally dumb sometimes. I just wish it worked as well on girls though, my gaydar is entirely messed up around pretty women.’

‘You are – yeah. That’s a shame.’ Cas settled on, shaking his head. Clearly it was going to be simpler to just go along for the ride with this exchange. They watched the game in silence for a few moments, before the small brunette who had passed them earlier squeezed back through the throng and beamed at Charlie, holding two bottles of bud and batting her eyes. Charlie shrugged and stood up, nodding at Cas as she did so. 

‘Sorry to ditch, man, but I’m sure you understand. Hit me up if you’re ever around Jester Center halls, yeah?’ She hopped down from the stool neatly and grabbed one of the bottles, leaning into the pretty girl with an unsubtle nudge. ‘I hear there’s a good strip poker game on in the pool house if you’re after something better looking than me to ogle!’ They wove through the kitchen neatly, leaving Cas to lean against the counter and gape in their wake, grasping his beer and somewhat wondering what on earth had just happened. 

****

‘Seriously man, just keep it!’ Dean laughed, pushing past the insistent figure in the doorway. Benny, large as he was, was a pretty effective barricade, even as drunk as he now was. He waved the hat around again, pushing it insistently towards Dean where he stood. His cowboy vest was long abandoned now, and shirt somewhat disheveled and smelling of whiskey, but he’d be damned if he was going to put that hat back on his head after the places it had been during the poker game so far. Benny made a last ditch attempt at shoving it on him before stumbling to one side, allowing Dean the space he needed to duck past and out into the cool winter air outside. He drew a long, deep breath, patting down his pockets as he made his way through the dancing crowd. He grabbed his phone, just a little unsteady as he slunk through and into a soft armchair just past the patio doors. The party was in full swing by now, with costumes galore starting to look more and more ragged as students abandoned aesthetics in favour of hard liquor and sweaty dancing. Dean glanced at his phone, grinning widely when it informed him that he had three messages to read. 

_Hello Dean. I hope you arrived back safely, and are having a good new year’s eve so far however you are spending it. Best wishes for the year ahead_

_I’m going to a costume party apparently. This should be interesting – sorry if you’re busy._

_WHO IS THIS eXACTLtY?? CAS won’t SHUT UP ab=-SHUIUEH UUYY09#_

Dean frowned. Clearly one of those was not quite like the others. He winced slightly. 

**Hey man. Just a heads up, you might want to check your Facebook and stuff – someone else texted me from your number tonight.**

He didn’t have to wait long for a reply, surprisingly. His phone buzzed in his hand almost immediately afterwards. 

_Oh, it was probably my friend Meg – she was very drunk. Thanks for letting me know though._

**It’s no bother. Your party was a bust then?**

_No, I’m still there. I don’t really know many people, although I’ve met some very…friendly ones._

**Yeah, I’m sure they’re very friendly ;) I’m feeling pretty friendly myself after that last whiskey**

_I’m sorry, I don’t mean to bother you._

**Nah, it’s fine. I’m at a party, and it’s kinda alright, but I like talking to you.**

_I like talking to you too Dean. You do seem very friendly_

**Oh you have no idea.**

Cas smirked down at his phone, seated delicately on the edge of the bar stool. Behind him the beer pong had evolved into a raucous game of ‘I Have Never’, the combination of which with the five beers and a questionable Meg-mixed cocktail he’d had so far, and the obviously inebriated man on the other end of the phone, were putting somewhat dangerous ideas into his tipsy head. 

_What do you say we make these parties a little more interesting?_

**How do you mean?**

_I have never?_

Dean gulped, his throat suddenly drier than it had any right to be. 

**How will you know I’m drinking when I should be though?**

_I suppose I’ll just have to trust you, won’t I?_

**Fine, smart guy, but you have to tell me when you drink as well, deal?**

_Deal. I have never… been to England._

**No drink. I have never owned a dog**

_No drink. I have never kissed a woman._

**Ha, okay, drink. I don’t have to drink for each one, right? I have never puked on anyone while drunk**

_No drink, and no, I wouldn’t say you have to. I have never been to jail._

**Nope, not all the way there. No drink. I have never been walked in on during sex**

_…Okay, drink. I have never skinny dipped._

**DRINK. Cas, man, you haven’t lived til you’ve skinny dipped. I have never ridden a motorbike**

_Drink – that’s not fair. I have never cheated in a relationship._

**No drink. I’m not that much of a douche, hey. I have never had a threesome**

The silence which followed had Dean grinning at first, before slowly descending into somewhat drunken paranoia that he’d managed to go too far, mixing with indigent, equally drunken, anger that hey, he hadn’t been the one to suggest over the phone ‘I Have Never’ because, wow, who even does that if they don’t expect – 

_Drink. I’m afraid I’m probably giving you a terrible impression of me here._

**Why on earth would you think that? You’re awesome.**

Dean paused as the noise of the room suddenly swelled around him and the dance music broke off. Somebody next to him hauled him to his feet as the crowd began chanting the new years countdown. Was it really so late already? The room erupted into cheers someone started to sing Auld Lang Syne, and his phone buzzed wildly in his hand, text messages from Sam, and Jo, and Bobby and numerous other friends setting it off wildly in his hand as the girl next to him pulled him into a laughing hug, planting a wet kiss on his cheek with a dazed smile. His phone buzzed again, seemingly he’d clicked on something. Dean slid the lock across and lifted the phone to his ear without looking, accepting a drink from a passing friend of Victor’s as he did. 

‘Hey Sammy, what’s up? Happy new year dude.’ 

‘Dean?’ 

The voice on the other end of the phone was surrounded by noisy cheering very similar to the celebration on his own end, and yet through the shouting and laughing and music, Dean froze. That was too deep, too rough, too different. That wasn’t Sam. 

‘Who is this?’

‘Dean, you called me. I see you were looking to call someone else, so I’ll let you go now.’ 

‘Wait, is that Cas?’ 

‘Happy new year, Dean.’ 

Dean gaped at the phone in his hand as noise overtook the speaker, before the call cut off abruptly and an insistent dial tone sounded. He groaned as he sunk down into the chair he’d been pulled from, staring at the call log in front of him and desperately ignoring the pathetic pounding in his chest that had arisen upon hearing his name in the smooth, deep voice on the other end of the call. Nobody had made his heart beat that fast since Cassie had last wrapped her sweet, smooth self around him and whispered his name into his ear, dragging him down into helpless, passive, gorgeous falling. Nobody else had made his hands so shaky and his breath catch that much since – well, fuck. Since never.

He was in such fucking trouble, his addled brain helpfully informed him. Such trouble indeed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Say it with me now - I will update more often. I will I will I will. 
> 
> Hope you enjoyed!


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> _Castiel_
> 
> **Dean**
> 
> Bet you thought I'd abandoned this! No such luck ;)

 

 

Call Me Cas – Chapter 7

 

“Meg?”

“Meg.”

“Meg!”

 Castiel gave up on his gentle shaking of the figure sprawled out at the bottom of his bed and gave it a sharp poke instead, getting only a vaguely blanketed moan in return. He gave up and extracted his legs from underneath her awkwardly, knocking several books and a spoon off the bed in the meantime. Pushing away the thought that he really did need to clean his room soon, he struggled across the room, grabbing clothes more or less at random as he went.

The early morning sun was more blinding in the hallway than he had anticipated, physically stopping him in his tracks for a moment in front of the big window. The night before had all more or less blurred together after midnight, and he hardly remembered struggling up the three flights of stairs with Meg draped over him. Coffee would solve the daylight problem, he concluded, ducking into the communal kitchen with a sigh.

The percolator was unexpectedly warm when he went to grab it, startling him a little. It wasn’t too surprising however, the house was mostly populated by older students and graduates who actually worked for a living every day. Jack was probably on cleaning duty at the bar he worked at in the city, Cas realised with a wince – at least he wasn’t doing that today, tutoring might be a bore but at least he could almost definitely guarantee there would be no vomit involved. Almost, anyhow. The coffee was soothingly strong, pulling his mind into action and throwing the world into sharper focus.

Glancing across the counter he saw his keys and wallet abandoned near the dishwasher; patting down the jeans he had picked up he found his phone sat reassuringly still in the back pocket. It certainly could have been worse, he thought lazily, taking another sip. Meg had a habit of discarding possessions when drunk, and not just her own-

Why was he suddenly trying to remember something important related to his phone? His texts all looked fine, but he was sure he had he spoken to somebody or-

Oh right.

 

***

 

Dean’s first thought upon opening his eyes was to wonder briefly and blearily if it was possible to punch the sun. His next, vaguely more coherent, was to wonder why on earth the sun was even in his face when he always, always closed his blinds at night, no matter how wasted he got. Sprawled out lengthways on the sticky leather couch beneath him, Dean stretched and accidentally knocked a glass of water off a nearby end table in the process, sending it clattering wildly to the wooden floor in a cacophony of noise and apparently, evoking a groan from the heap of blankets on the sofa across the room from him. He squinted, eyes adjusting to the light slowly, and cleared his throat.

‘Benny?’ he coughed and tried again, hoping to sound less like he’d been gargling with glass this time. ‘Vic?’

The lump groaned again, louder this time and a thin hand poked out to flip him off before burrowing back under the coverlet and turning away. A thin, pale hand with nail varnish on and a distinctly elven looking bracelet. Ah. Dean swung his legs around and glanced around the room. It wasn’t surprising to him that he hadn’t recognised Charlie’s new living room, having only been there a handful of times since she’d moved apartments earlier that summer, but that didn’t really help the complete mental blank that sat staunchly in between the party last night and waking up two minutes ago. The last thing he remembered, racking his brain, was Benny stumbling over to him in the kitchen, topless but for a chef’s hat, and handing him a half empty bottle of tequila, as Victor ran over from the back door intent on interrupting the transaction. Yeah, okay. Not a promising last memory.

Dean stretched again more successfully, and stood up, wandering over to the kitchen where it was blessedly dimmer thanks to the tiny windows and the new curtains Hannah had hung. It was peaceful at least, and warmed by the thin mid-morning light to create a fairly nice little living space, much better than Charlie’s old hell-hole. Spotting a bottle of water, a scribbled note and a bag of saltines on the side, Dean reminded himself for not the first time to ask Hannah why someone as angelically amazing as her was rooming with a slob like Charlie. On the table beside him were a neatly stacked assortment of objects that they’d presumably discarded on their way in last night, sorted roughly into his and Charlie’s. On the right, an open purse with a single key, a pile of loose change, a ragged bus ticket stub and, inexplicably, a coconut bra. On the left his wallet, keys, a large man’s sock (which, upon looking down at his own two clothed feet, almost definitely did not belong to him and he was planning on never ever touching), an Ace of Hearts playing card, and his phone, which was flashing with a notification.

His phone. Dean sat down heavily, clutching the water bottle and stared at it with more caution than an armed bomb. Oh Christ. He tapped the screen and swallowed heavily at the missed call notification that flashed up accusingly in his face, informing him that he’d had three calls from an unknown number that morning so far, in addition to a collection of less alarming social media notifications and text messages from various well-wishers. Those could wait – this potentially couldn’t. He downed half of the bottle of water and punched in the number, willing his breathing to calm the hell down and not give him away. The fridge hummed low and even in the background as the number rang.

‘Cas?’

‘Dean?’

He frowned. That didn’t sound right at all.

‘ _Ellen_?’

‘Who the hell were you expecting? Did you say Cas? I thought you and her weren’t on speaking terms anymore? I swear, you boys never tell me anything.’

Dean slumped back in his chair and closed his eyes. It was seriously too early for this.

‘No, I said… I said Cath. ‘Nother friend of mine. Why you calling on an unknown number anyway?’

‘Uh huh, and a happy new year to you too.’

‘Happy new year, Ellen. Did you guys have a good night?’

‘Not as good as yours was, by the sounds of it, but decent. We watched the ball drop and played Uno, and Bobby locked the cat outside by accident so it woke me up at 3am crying to be let in, poor thing. My phone’s been on the blink, so I’m using one of Bobby’s spares.’

‘Ah that’s go- wait, what do you mean as good as mine was?’

Ellen sniggered, sounding uncannily like her daughter for a second. ‘You texted the wrong number, dumbass. Check your outbox, you had me confused for a moment. Cath indeed, you must think I’m an idiot or something.’

Dean found his thoughts sprinting back to his plan of punching the sun and wondering if the heat and inevitable fiery death of that would be enough to consume his all-encompassing horror right now. Probably not. ‘Ellen I am so sorry, whatever I said I was, I mean, I can’t even remember to be honest, but I-’

‘Oh quit your babbling, you’re young and stupid, I already knew that. I just wanted to check you were home safe and not dead in a ditch somewhere. You aren’t, dead in a ditch, I presume?’

‘Yeah, I’m home. Well, Charlie’s home, anyway.’

He swore he heard Ellen’s voice physically soften at that. They all loved Charlie, with her red hair and her smiles and whole ditsy genius thing, and would never in a million years believe him that half of the shit he ended up in was down to her. ‘Ah that’s good, let her know we’re asking after her. I’ll get Sam to text you when he’s on his way to the airport tonight, okay?’

‘Yeah, sounds good. Thanks.’

‘Stay safe hon.’ Ellen hung up abruptly, leaving Dean slightly shell-shocked in the dim kitchen with only the refrigerator hum for company and the quiet sounds of Charlie snoring lightly in the next room once again. All things considered, he reckoned, that probably could have gone worse.

 

****

 

**TO: Ellen – 1.05am 01/01/15**

**cAS dam mso sorry I hung up I was jus scohcked**

**TO: Ellen – 1.35am 01/01/15**

**You got a real nicee deep voice you kno. Should call me agaiin with tha nice voice an talk some more**

**TO: Ellen – 2.55am 01/01/15**

**OR fuck cas probly even meet wat do u say?/? Dinner . >? I don’t date but I’d date you**

**\- THREE MESSAGES SELECTED –**

**\- DELETE SELECTED MESSAGES? –**

**\- MESSAGES DELETED –**

**TO: Cas – 9.04am 01/01/15**

**Morning. Did you have a good night? Happy New Year!**

 

 

********

 

“Cole, please, could you type a little quieter?”

Cole shrugged, remaining hunched over the small laptop and pausing his frantic fingers only to brush some of his long hair out of his eyes.

“Hey man, not my fault you decided to get wasted last night. Would you check these now?” he pushed the laptop towards the pale man across from him and slunk back in his chair, raising his eyebrows at the glare he received from across the table. “Dude come on, you may have had like five coffees but it _is_ New Year’s Day. I’m in high school, I’m not stupid.”

Cas sighed and drew a hand across his face and resisted the urge to continue glaring at the defiant fifteen year old across from him. This kid was older than his usual crowd of tutoring subjects, who were usually much quieter and sweeter, typically accompanied by an overbearing parent in the background who chipped in answers and raised everyone’s blood pressure by about 150mmhgs with their presence alone. This increase in question difficulty combined with the pointed attitude of this entitled tenth grader had been chipping away at his patience since 8.30am when he’d first shown up at the bright white house, and were not improving his mood by any stretch of the imagination.

Cole regarded him critically. “So how come you’re at UT Austin anyway?” he blurted out, after a few moments of silence interrupted only by Castiel tapping gently away on the laptop, correcting errors here and there. He glanced up, startled out of the cloud of grey self-pity that had been settling over him.

“You mean why am I not at an Ivy League?”

Cole nodded. “Kevin told me your SAT scores so I would agree to let you come today. You must have been able to go anywhere you wanted. Why here? Do you just really like the longhorns, or what?”

Cas smiled, somewhat grimly, for the first time all morning. “You really wanna know?” Cole nodded again, more enthusiastically this time.

“I got into Brown, Princeton, Harvard, and a handful of others when I applied. I’d never visited any of them, but I had my heart set on… well, you’ll probably think it’s stupid, but I really wanted to go to Berkeley.” He nodded at Cole’s raised eyebrows. “Yep, that’s the reaction I usually get. I wanted to see the west coast of my own accord and study Peace Studies and Environmental Science by the bay in the sun.” He coughed awkwardly and focused his gaze back down at the screen in front of him, highly aware of the young boy’s eyes boring into him. “Well, that obviously didn’t happen. My- my father found the enrolment coursework before I finished it and threw it away before I could send it off.  He said I was crazy to think I’d be able to go somewhere completely on my own, and gave me what he thought was a fantastic choice to make. I could go to any university I wanted – as long as it was within two miles of at least one of my older siblings so they could keep an eye on me. In return he would pay my rent, cover my tuition, everything, as long as I swore to major in something ‘not useless’.  One of my brothers was living somewhere in in South America then and my sister was in Korea, and the two eldest – well, let’s just say we don’t really get on all too well. So I picked my last, least heinous brother and moved to Austin and that was that.”

Cole was outright gaping at him now. If Cas wasn’t uncomfortable beforehand, being scrutinised so closely by some snotty sophomore who he’d just spilled his pathetic life choices to, well he was just about ready to crawl out of here on his knees now.  His head pounded dully as he pushed the computer back across the polished desk.

“And here. You got 97%, easily a 98th percentile pass. You’ll ace this final Cole, I promise.” He sighed and glanced at his watch. “And good job anyway, because our time is up and I have to go and drown myself in more caffeine now. It was good meeting you.” He gathered his books together clumsily and stood up, stretching out and stuffing items in his bag awkwardly as Cole returned to staring at the laptop, fifteen year old nonchalance settling back over him once again. Cas edged out from the table and made for the door, hating the loud echo of his shoes on the expensive looking tiled floor as he did so.

“You’ve still got time man.”

Cas turned, hand on the door knob. “Huh?”

Cole shifted, glancing up at him once before shrugging and dropping his gaze. “I dunno, I just mean you’re like almost a real adult anyway. You can major in whatever, my teachers always say it’s your choice and nobody else’s. You could go wherever you wanted.” The booming noise of a violent sounding video game started up from the laptop and drew his full attention once more. “Thanks for coming today dude.”

 _Kids,_ Cas thought bitterly as he strode out of the room and through the oversized entrance hall to the front door, the cold air hitting him like a punch to the gut as he let himself out. _What the hell do they know._

 

****

 

_I had a… interesting night. I’m beat this morning though, just facing down a proper brunch now._

**Is that so? Can’t beat some good grease to satisfy a morning after cutie anyway**

**…cure. A morning after cure. damn autocorrect**

_Right, well I’ve inhaled two eggonomicals at The Omelettry and I feel almost human again, so I’m off to brave the walk home. Speak to you later Dean._

**I love that place! Great pancakes. Speak later x**

 

****

 

Dean stared in horror at the phone in his hand. Had he seriously just put a motherfucking ‘x’ on the end of that message? Was he actually a twelve year old girl? Why had they not invented a way of recalling text messages yet, whoever they were? Sam probably knew how, or his weird child genius friend. Was he becoming hysterical silently sitting in the corner of this dingy diner he was nursing a coffee in? Why yes. Yes he was.

 

****

 

_Oh and I hope you had a good night too by the way. Happy New Year xx_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh man, I very very nearly abandoned this. But then the other day I was just really wanting to write something, and when I sat down, all I could think of was this fic. So i'm finishing it off. If you'll all accept my shamefaced and heartfelt apologies, I would love to hear what you thought of this chapter. 
> 
> If you're interested, The Omlettry is a real place just up the road from University of Texas, Austin. I'm told their pancakes are divine.


	8. Chapter 8

Chapter 8

 

 

It wasn’t too long before the lazy, all-in-one days of Christmas vacation began to speed along and gain momentum. January reared it’s face with a breath of bracing wind and a wink of new adventure, and Dean was struggling to keep up with the sudden onslaught of life once more. Where before there had been eggnog and carols and peace to all men, there suddenly was sales and bustle and reminder emails about school return dates.

  
Having Sam back, annoying as he eternally was, at least helped the days to more feel normal again. It was always too quiet without him around, Dean thought fondly, glancing over at the kitchen from his firm position on the sofa where he’d been unceremoniously placed by his little brother. The noises coming from in there were less than encouraging, but he’d been warned in no short terms not to interfere, so interfere he wouldn’t. He dropped his gaze to his laptop and sighed, clicking out of the half-hearted document held been working on for over an hour. Until classes actually started again and his exam results eventually came in (delayed twice already by a professors illness, currently three days, six hours and about 27 minutes to go – not that he was counting), he was going to be useless.

  
“OW, oh you fucking-“

  
“Language, Sammy!”

  
Sam stuck his head around the door frame and scowled, a streak of something floury on his forehead and in his hair.

  
“ _Language_ , what are you, Ellen now?”

  
Dean scowled right back, twisting around in his seat to glare over his shoulder.

  
“You can curse all you like when you actually injure yourself, you big baby. Until then at least try and keep it PG dude. What are you even doing anyway, are we gonna eat sometime this century?”

  
Sam brightened up. “It’s almost done! You’re going to love it, Ellen showed me how to get the pastry just right this time, and there’s two kinds of filling, and-“

  
The sudden and jarring sound of the smoke alarm blaring behind him cut him off. Dean raised an eyebrow, and thanked whoever was listening that the kid at least had the gall to look sheepish at the sound.

  
“...Just a sec.”

  
“Don’t you dare burn down my kitchen, you little jerk!” Dean tutted and turned back around. No pie was worth all this effort, Ellen original recipe or not. Knowing Sam held probably sneak some chia seeds or coconut oil into it anyway, and pretend it all tasted just as good. Throwing his laptop aside, his fingers twitched as he glanced at his phone, then at the clock on the mantel. Cas had said he was out today or something, but it would be okay to text him anyway surely? It’s not like he had to reply straight away or anything.

  
**Help. I’m fairly certain my house is going to be burned down by a pseudo-healthy apple pie and I’m powerless to stop it. Why are teenagers a thing? x**

  
Pocketing his phone, he made his way into the kitchen, where Sam was crouching over a slightly too brown pie, and looking devastated. He looked up with all the forlornity and tragedy of a kicked puppy. One that had been caught in a rainstorm, doused with flour and then scolded at length.

  
“I don’t get it. It was supposed to be right, I followed all the instructions.”

  
Dean grimaced and clapped him on the shoulder, resigning himself to his dinner.

  
“Ah come on, it looks fine! Nobody likes raw pastry, that’s just well cooked.” He turned to the refrigerator, grabbing a box and a pile of napkins from the top. “Come on, set it out to cool, have some pizza and we’ll grab a slice afterward. It smells great.” He handed the box to his brother, relaxing at his tentative smile as he followed into the living room. Sometimes, close as they were, it was difficult remembering that this lanky pile of elbows and knees was pretty much just still a kid after all.

~~~~

  
It was almost two hours, four slices of pizza, two slices of average-tasting apple pie and a whole round of Mario Kart before Dean remembered to check his messages. Stealing a glance over at Sam where he was tapping away on Skype to Kevin, he drew it out carefully and slid the lock open.

  
_I’m really curious as to what a teenage apple pie looks like. Is it angsty? Is it making you listen to it’s poetry? Or is it just highly flammable? Either way, I’d keep it away from the curtains._

  
_Dean, are you actually in need of rescue from the teenager/pie combination?_

  
_Okay if you’ve actually been caught in a blazing inferno then I feel obliged to tell you that those were terrible last words. Everything okay? x_

  
Dean chuckled aloud, raising a questioning look from Sam on the armchair. He flapped his hand dismissively, and began to reply.

  
**I am in one piece, although that’s more than I can say for the pie. Sorry, didn’t mean to worry you.**

  
A reply came back almost immediately, startling him as the phone vibrated in his grasp.

  
_Honestly, I’m just glad the last words you had to hear weren’t lame jokes about a pie x_

  
**Yeah, they were pretty sour ;)**

  
_I retract my statement, that was way worse._

  
**Sam decided he had to cook for like the second time ever in his life haha. He’s not really beyond the skill of salad making yet, but he’ll get there.**

  
_Better than me already then, I’m lucky if I can cut up a romaine without it bursting into flames somehow._

  
**Seriously? Man, I love cooking. What do you even eat?**

  
_Takeout, mostly? My housemates are all med students, we’re not really big on the whole sit down meals things. We’re all messy and we value our sleep, there’s no hidden Martha Stewarts here._

  
**I suppose I get that, I never used to cook all that much when my Dad was around. Since we moved here though, it’s kinda nice just having my own kitchen to mess about in.**

  
_That’s nice. It’s good that you have something you enjoy, just for yourself._

  
**Well hell, that got deep. What are you up to anyhow, weren’t you out today?**

  
_Just seeing my brother, against my better judgement. He wanted to ‘hang out’ before he goes back to work after the holidays. He’s going away for a while, so I’m not going to see him until probably around mid-February._

  
A creak from the chair drew Dean’s gaze reluctantly away from the screen, to Sam stretching and yawning as he rose.

  
“I’m going to go bed. There’s a whole load of stuff on Netflix I need to catch up on before school starts, Kevin keeps sending me new things to watch.”

  
“Alright nerd, don’t be up too late.” Dean flicked a bit of lint at him, grinning at the glare he recieved in return. “And stay on your own profile, I don’t need you messing up my recommendations again with all your weird nature documentaries and angsty French shit.”

  
Sam rolled his eyes, tucking his laptop under his arm and nodding down at his brother’s phone where it lay between them on the sofa.

  
“And you? Gonna be up all night talking to your _crush_ again?”

  
Dean flushed pink, heat creeping over his collar as he stammered wildly. “What are you – who did you-“

  
“Jo, of course.”

  
“God damn that girl, I swear to God I’m gonna-“

  
“Dean”. Dean paused mid-rant, looking guiltily up at Sam where he stood, eyes a little bleary with tiredness and hair ruffled beyond any amount of reason. “I think it’s great. You’re happier than you’ve been in ages, everyone can see it. I just don’t get why you don’t go and meet him for real?”

  
Dean shrugged, wishing not for the first time that he could avoid ever telling Sam anything about his life ever. “It’s not that simple. We’re very different people, for one. And we barely know each other, and I just-“ He exhaled with a whoosh of air and ran his hand through his hair, fixing a smile onto his face. “It’s nothing for you to worry about, kid. Go on, I’ll lock up soon.”

  
Sam shrugged with the mastered nonchalance of every 16 year old on the planet.

“Whatever dude, it’s your life. I just think you may as well try it out, see what he’s like in person. What’s the worst that could happen?” He slunk away down the hallway, leaving Dean alone in the quiet dim of the room.

  
_Anyway, what about you? How are you?_

  
Dean squinted at the screen and sighed. What’s the worst that could happen, he thought grimly, as he replied. What’s the worst that could happen? Well, he could be awful. Cas could be weird and awkward in person, or smell really bad, or look like Mel Gibson in the latter years. 

Or – and definitely the worse option – he could be amazing. He could be everything he sounds on paper and more, with his pre-med and his dry humour and his deep voice, and be entirely too good for Dean as a result, and justifiably run for the hills as soon as he realised that. He could follow in the steps of the last 'Cas' Dean had known intimately, and take one look at his complex, sorry situation and decide nothing was worth the effort required to keep up with all that mess. And the worst part was, Dean couldn’t even find it in himself to resent that. Not then, not now. Maybe not ever.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This has been a while since I updated, but is not abanonded. Will hopefully be complete in the next few weeks!
> 
> Much love & happy December to you all x


	9. Chapter 9

 

Chapter 9

 

Leaning up against the cold brick walls of the biomedical engineering building, Cas shuffled his bag uncomfortably, acutely aware of how increasingly heavy it was feeling as the minutes dragged on. A pile of enthusiastic first years poured out of the doors near him, clutching flimsy cardboard coffee cups and none of the dark cloud of stress and horror around them that the rest of the older students curated so fiercely. He winced gently as their chatter faded away slowly, leaning back against the prickly wall and resisting the urge to check his phone. A cool wind snapped around the corner, making him wish he’d picked up a scarf on the hurried rush out of the door earlier – or even, at the very least, remembered to wear socks.

A slamming door from across the street made him start, and seeing a familiar figure in a heavy coat stride outside and look around, Cas jumped into action, striding inelegantly across the road.

“Professor! Professor Nolan! Professor?”

He paused, slightly out of breath at the chase as he drew close to the tall woman, who had reluctantly drawn up and stopped at the corner of Speedway and Dean Keaton Street. She turned stiffly and smiled, taking in the seriously dishevelled appearance Cas was pretty certain he was rocking.

“Castiel, isn’t it? What can I do for you?”

Cas swallowed nervously, wondering in a brief panic whether he’d even bothered to comb his hair that morning. Probably not. Professor Nolan was by no means an approachable figure, despite her smooth and welcoming southern tones, and her classes were a notoriously difficult ride all things considered.  
  
“Castiel Novak, yes ma’am. Professor, I was just wondering, do you know when you’ll be posting the results of the Bio finals from last semester?” A particularly icy glare shot his way but he held his ground. “It’s just, I need to know my grades before I can arrange my schedule, and well, since classes start again next week...”  
  
Professor Nolan sighed deeply, drawing her dark coat around her closely. “Look, Castiel, I’ll be honest with you. It’s been a difficult few weeks and you are far from the first to hassle me about this – although you are only the second to manage to catch me in person, so kudos for that.” She sniffed, glancing down at the phone in her hand as she scrolled through something. “If you really must know, I’ve just finished checking through the grading curve this morning.”  
  
“So, you have our grades now?”  
  
She laughed, tapping at her phone again. “God, what is it about my students this year? I haven’t had such a keen bunch in years.” She paused, squinting at the small writing on the screen. “Novak, Novak. Okay, well I can’t tell you the grading curve details, or specific transcript comments or anything yet, but I can tell you your test was awarded a B+, bringing your overall score for the class to an A-. Well done.”  
  
Cas exhaled happily, relaxing slightly as the imposing figure in front of him regarded him with mild amusement and slightly less mild irritation. “Thank you, Professor. I’ll leave you to your day now.” He turned on his heel, careening slightly as his bag swung heavily beside him.  
  
“Oh, and Castiel?” He paused, glancing back as the professor pocketed her phone and pulled her long dark hair off her face with gloved hands. “Please tell your equally tenacious friend that I’ll be posting the results by email this afternoon. He can stop with the constant chasing, if he doesn’t mind.”  
  
Cas frowned, head cocking to one side in confusion. “Friend, Professor?”  
  
“Winchester something, Dee, or Dom, or something like that. Dean, I think. I figured since you’ve both been trying to get an answer out of me nonstop for weeks now you must surely be in league with each other. ” She took in the surprised expression ahead of her and shrugged. “Or not, I guess. Never mind, I’ll drop him a message myself. I’ll see you in class, Novak.”  
  
~~~~  
  
**Dude. Bio test results are out. Scholarship confirmed!**  
  
Dean swung happily into the kitchen, cuffing Sam casually across the side of his face as he strode past the tiny dining table  
.  
“What gives?” Sam glared, reluctantly pulling an ear bud out of his left ear and raising his eyebrow suspiciously at the cheerful figure practically bouncing around the fridge area.  
  
“Oh I just had some pretty good news, is all.” Dean grinned, grabbing a leftover carton of eggnog out of the door and giving it a tentative sniff. “Do you think this is still good? Rum preserves things, right?”  
  
“Please for the love of God don’t drink that, I think it’s alive.” Sam stretched in a deeply ungainly manner, almost knocking the books on the table in front of him off in the process. “What news?”  
  
“Spoilsport.” Dean grabbed a juice carton instead and took a seat. “Scholarship has been approved for next semester, so we can carry on eating and having a TV and stuff. You know, the little things.” He took a swig and winced, placing the carton gently down on the table. “Speaking of, we really need to go grocery shopping. Everything is starting to have spores.”  
  
Sam shrugged non-committedly, turning back to the politics textbook spread in front of him. “Totally not my turn. Why don’t we just get takeout?”  
  
“What, for the rest of our lives?” Dean raised an eyebrow, taking in the book-strewn surface between them properly for the first time since walking in. “What is all this anyway? Surely you can’t have homework already, you only started back a few days ago?”  
  
Sam looked up at him like he had three heads. “College essay prep. Of course.”  
  
Dean winced, slurping the remainder of the juice noisily and crushing the carton in his hand. “Oh, right. Of course.” A rather awkward silence settled over the table as the brothers stared at each other, which Dean immediately resented himself for creating, or at least contributing too. He cleared his throat and stood up with an over-exaggerated stretch. “Anyway, I’m going to call Charlie, see if she’s free to come grocery shopping. See you soon.” He strode out of the kitchen feeling weirdly hollow as Sam replaced his ear bud, shaking his head. His hand crept into his pocket as he reached the living room, checking his phone for messages. No reply yet. That was weird, he thought, Cas had been replying pretty much straight away for the last few days, since they were both enjoying downtime before school started again.  
  
**Hey nerd. Wanna come over?**  
  
Charlie’s reply pinged back almost instantly, forever a testament to her insane typing skills, curated over many, many years of online gaming chat and the occasional illegal hacking adventure.  
  
Always, princess. Any particular reason though?  
  
**Sam’s doing college admissions essays and I kinda want to chew my own face off. All good other than that though.**  
  
Ouch, say no more. See you in 5.  
  
Dean smiled gently at the short reply. For a guy studying psychology he literally was a textbook fucking asshat when it came to admitting weakness and asking for help, but at least Charlie was always there when he needed somebody to lean on. She was always ready to come over at a moments notice just to play video games, or talk about school, or generally distract him from whatever shit was occupying his mind.  
  
Lately as well though, he realised, Cas had been there as well a vast majority of the time. Cas was the first person he thought to text when he’d been feeling alone over the holidays, the first person he’d spoken to on New Years, the first one he had wanted to laugh with when Sam had fallen off the kitchen counter the other morning and landed face first in his own cereal. _Christ, I literally just told him about my Scholarship before I even told Sam OR Charlie_ , Dean realised with a jolt. It was becoming second nature to tell this guy everything in his life, this amazing, funny, lovely man who didn’t even have a second name yet, but had Dean apparently wrapped around his little finger, probably without even meaning to.  
  
A sharp knock on the door brought him out of his reverie, and Dean jumped up to open it to the small redhead on the other side. Charlie looked him up and down, taking in whatever the hell expression Dean could only guess was gracing his face at that particular moment.  
  
“Okay, so, either Sam just told you he’s moving to Australia for college, or there’s something else going on here. Spill.”  
  
Dean could only stare as the cogs clicked in his mind, bringing together the one conclusion he had really been hoping they wouldn’t reach. The only one they inevitably ever could.  
  
“Charlie, I think I’m in love with a guy I’ve never met.”  
  
She regarded him seriously, nodding slowly as she tucked her short hair behind her ears. “Right. We’re going to need some vodka.”  
  
~~~  
  
Cas shifted nervously on the small couch, worrying the throw beneath him as Kevin stared at him from across the room. The movie they were supposed to be watching played on quietly in the background, some poor woman getting an arm torn off by what may have been a Vampire in a bloody and fruitless battle. Kevin leaned over, hitting the mute button and waving an arm in front of his friends face.  
  
“Dude, you’ve been even weirder than normal this afternoon. What’s wrong?”  
  
Cas glanced to the side and sighed. “Nothing. I just wanted some company is all.”  
  
“Bullshit” Kevin snorted. “You aced your Bio test, you’re not hungover, you’re not fighting with Meg and I haven’t forced you to tutor any more of my students recently.” He grabbed a handful of salted popcorn from the bowl on the table, chewing thoughtfully as Castiel tried to escape his searching gaze. “You call me out of the blue and say you wanna come over and talk, then you get here and don’t say anything. Unless this is a very, very misguided attempt to hit on me – which I somehow doubt – I’m lost.”  
  
“You’re not my type” Castiel muttered, annoyed that he’d been called out so succinently. He rolled his eyes, weighing the equally annoying options of just sucking it up and being an adult about this, or perpetually sulking and never getting anywhere. “Okay.”  
  
Kevin grabbed another handful of popcorn and grinned obnoxiously. “I’m ready. This is exciting.”  
  
Cas took a deep breath. “You know your friend Sam, the one you mention all the time? The one in high school?”  
  
Kevin frowned. “Er, Sam Winchester? Yeah, why?”  
  
“Does he by any chance have an older brother? One who he lives with?”  
  
“Yeah, his parents are gone so he lives with his brother Dean, some accident a few years back I think. I’ve met him a couple of times, he’s alright. This is weird, are you like stalking my friends? Oh my god, are you obsessed with Sam or something?”  
  
Castiel shook his head sadly, the final pieces falling into place as he stared over at the diminutive teenager curled up on the easy chair ahead of him, in the small basement living room.  
  
“No. But I’m pretty sure I might be falling in love with his brother.”  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Not long to go now. Enjoy, and I'll see you all again soon my lovelies x


	10. Chapter 10

Chapter 10

 

“Oh my god.”

  
“Kevin, please. Feel free to say literally anything else.”

  
“Sorry, I just... Oh my god.”

  
Cas dropped the cushion he was burying his face into with a groan. It flopped onto the floor with a lack of purpose, limp and in need of replacement. This wasn’t going any better than he had expected, quite honestly, although at least they’d gotten past the blank, horrified staring part. That had gone on for way too long.

  
“Look, we just text. A lot. And we spoke on the phone once, although I don’t think he remembers it. This whole thing was just a big misunderstanding really, and it just sort of carried on. We kept talking and kept talking, and we just kind of... fit.” He trailed off uselessly.

  
Kevin shook his head, sipping his tea delicately.

  
“And you really had no idea who he was? Dean Winchester?”

  
“For what I’m fairly certain is the eighth time, no, Kevin. I just never thought to ask if he was the older brother of the best friend of the weird teenage genius who lives in our basement with his pet guinea pigs. Shockingly.”

  
“Okay first, sarcasm doesn’t suit you. Second, I’m both flattered and offended by that description. And third, it is not my fault you’ve basically been living in a telenovella with my best friend’s brother for the past three months, so don’t take it out on me dude.”

  
Cas sunk back against the worn couch and stared forlornly at the low ceiling. Chamomile and Matcha squeaked quietly from their cage on the end table at the movement, peering out through the bars at him with matching concerned expressions. Great, even the guinea pigs thought he was losing it. “This is really ridiculous, isn’t it?”

  
“He’s literally been to this apartment before. You’ve probably passed each other in the hall. God, he was actually in the same class as you for three months. You’re basically living in an anime, and not even a very good one.”

  
Kevin suppressed a smile, taking in the grim expression on his friend’s face. “Look, it’s not the end of the world though. He’s a nice guy. A complete dork, yes, but by all accounts from Sam he’s pretty great. What’s the problem?”

  
“What’s the problem?” Castiel redirected his glare from the ugly yellow lampshade hanging above them to the unimpressed figure curled up neatly in his armchair. “I can’t exactly just call him up and tell him I know who he is now, can I? He’s going to think I’ve been stalking him, and not in a cute way. In a ‘call the cops and change my last name’ way.”

  
“Well, yeah. There’s that. But-“

  
“Plus, even if we do happen to casually run into each other now, there’s no way I can talk to him. I can’t admit I know it’s him, and I can’t pretend I don’t know it either. I mean honestly, I don’t even know what he looks like still. He might not even want me to know who he is, surely he’d have told me himself by now if he did? There’s no way out of this.”

  
“Aren’t we feeling dramatic today?” Kevin raised an eyebrow, setting down his tea with a sigh. “Cas, what did you think was going to happen? You can’t have expected to just keep texting the guy forever surely?”

  
Cas frowned. “Well, no. But it was just nice, it was easy. He was funny, and clever, and dorky, and he seemed like he really liked me, without any of the weirdness of an actual, in-person relationship. I just wanted to keep that.”

  
“He’s still all those things.” Kevin added gently, in as serious a tone as he could muster. “Plus, speaking as somebody who is in no way attracted to him or into the whole repressed sexy dork thing overall, he’s fucking smoking in the flesh.” He again smothered a laugh at great cost when Cas’s eyes snapped up to him in shock. “So would you please, please just put an end to this and call the guy? For the love of all that is holy, Castiel, go and find him. Be in gross, sickly love together and we can all laugh about this together some day. But seriously. If you don’t tell him I’m gonna.”

  
“You wouldn’t.”

  
“Try me.” Kevin smirked, leaning back to grab the remote and flicking the channel back over to ‘Horror247’. And if he’d spotted a tiny smile on Castiel’s face as he dimmed the lights again and grabbed the popcorn back off the table, well, he was a good enough friend not to mention it.

  
~~~  
_That’s great news, well done Dean. I’m happy with my grades too. How are you planning to celebrate? X_  
~~~

  
Dean threw down the controller in his hand and huffed, grabbing another handful of chips from the bag shoved haphazardly between him and Charlie on the sofa.

  
“That’s bullshit. I couldn’t even avoid following the other kid out into the obviously dangerous stupid woods at fucking 3am? No wonder I died! Heck, I deserved to die!”

  
“That’s the beauty of it though. If you make the wrong choices earlier on, no matter what you do at the end, you still can’t win sometimes.” Charlie tossed a chocolate into her mouth from where she was sprawled at the other end, watching the game intently.

  
“Oh whatever, just because I didn’t want to be all Mr creepy nice guy romancing that ginger chick who obviously wasn’t into me? It is so not my fault that my friends are idiots who decided to go for a fun adventure weekend, on an obviously haunted mountain full of monsters and murderers. Christ, at least take a fucking shotgun or two, just for the freaky ass deer alone.”

  
Charlie laughed, leaning over to grab the controller. “Okay, no more video games for you until you’ve calmed down, I’m not having you break my console.” They chewed in companionable silence for a few moments, listening to the title screen music. Charlie stole a glance over at the man beside her where he sat, sullen and glaring. She cleared her throat awkwardly.

  
“So. You’re in love with a stranger called Cas, then?”

  
Dean rolled his eyes. “Nice change of topic. Real smooth, barely even noticeable.”

  
“If you think I’m one to beat around the bush you do not know me at all, Deano.”

  
“Are you telling me you don’t spend a lot of time beating the bu-“

  
“Uh-uh. No dirty puns today. Back to the subject.”

  
Dean sighed heavily, munching through another grabbed handful of snacks nosily. “Well, yeah. I mean, I know it sounds crazy and all, and especially after the whole mess with Cassie, but he’s just... great. I want to tell him everything, I want to know everything about him, and I want to tell everyone else about the whole thing.” He grimaced. “I hate this so much.”

  
“Why on earth would you hate this?” Charlie sat up slightly, wiggling backwards and getting comfy on the sofa. She took in Dean’s tense shoulders and overall wary posture and leaned forwards, patting his leg reassuringly. “Hey, Dean. It’s only me.”

  
He exhaled shakily. “I know, I know. It’s just so fucking vulnerable, y’know? I doubt he feels the same, and I know this is completely batshit, but it’s not going away. And I don’t think I want it to, either” he admitted quietly, fiddling with a loose thread on the blanket covering their legs. “I want to know him in person, see if he’s really as awkward as seems when he writes. I wanna know what his face looks like when he watches movies, and listen to him yell at his brother with that stupid deep voice of his, and eat gross pizza on the sofa together with him. I want to be with him.”

  
“Oh man, you weren’t kidding.” Charlie shook her head, patting her friend’s ankle sympathetically. “This may be a wild and crazy idea, but have you ever, I don’t know, thought about telling him this?” She stood her ground against the glare that came her way.

  
“And how do you suggest I phrase that message? Hi Cas, I was just thinking, want to meet up in person and declare our love for one another, and hopefully make out and stuff? P.S, What’s your last name?”

  
“It’s not a terrible first draft.” Charlie threw a lifesaver at his head, which he neatly dodged. “You have no way of knowing that he doesn’t feel the same way, Dean.”

  
“I have no way of knowing if he does either.”

  
“Nobody ever does. That’s the chance you take when you let somebody else into your life, you know that. Sometimes you get shot down in flames and that’s just how it goes. Sometimes though, sometimes it’s perfect and you wonder why you ever doubted it at all.”

  
Dean bit back the snarky response on the tip of his tongue at the dreamy expression on Charlie’s face, remembering guiltily the disasters that her last few relationships had been. He shrugged noncommittally and stared at his feet. “I just don’t know if I can go through that again.”

  
“Well, you’ll have to sometime or other. And you’ll end up regretting it if you don’t take this chance here. I’m like, a certified supernatural seer in these matters, so you really should listen to me.”

  
Dean snorted against his wishes, smiling lightly at the mock-serious expression Charlie wore. “The only thing supernatural about you is your gaydar.” He dodged the popcorn which came flying his way with ease, anticipating it before it had even left his friends hand. “I’ll think about it. I promise.”

  
“You promise promise, or is this like when you promised me you’d go to salsa lessons with me?”

  
“I promise promise. Now give me that controller, I need to make sure none of these other stupid fuckers die on this mountain.”

  
~~~

  
**Thanks. Just had a quiet night in with my bro, might do something more later this week.**

  
**You busy?**

  
Cas put down the book he’d been reading on the bed fully when the second message buzzed through, drawing the quilt around his knees further up to his chest as he scanned through the small letters on the bright screen.

  
_Not particularly, just getting through some of my reading. Nothing exciting. What’s up?_

  
**Whatcha reading?**

  
_‘The Well of Loneliness’, by Radcliffe Hall._

  
**Jesus, sounds cheerful for a Sunday night, Cas.**

  
_It’s alright, I’ve read better. I’m taking a gender studies elective next semester and it’s on the reading list, just trying to get a head start on it._

  
**Well, that’s very sensible.**

  
**Nerd.**

  
**Okay so, I wanted to talk to you about something.**

  
_Oh?_

  
_Is everything alright?_

  
**Yeah, it’s fine. Look, I’m not very good at this sort of thing so I’m just going to go ahead and say it as best I can, and hopefully it doesn’t come out too awful. If you’ve got time to listen, anyway.**

  
_I have time._

  
**I kind of had a rough time the last few years. I was in a relationship with a really cool girl, and it got serious quick. More than any other I’ve had before.**

  
**And well, it didn’t end too well. She found out about my fucked up family and she bailed. Didn’t want to take on my baggage and honestly, even though it ruined me for a while, I can’t blame her.**

  
**I didn’t know what to do with myself for a while. I started drinking more than I should, I stopped turning up to class, and I almost got kicked out of school. My friends picked me up and put me right, though, and I managed to keep my scholarship by the skin of my teeth. I wasn't kidding that first time we talked, that was the first time I'd studied in months.**

  
_Dean, I’m sorry. It sounds like you’ve done so well to come through all of that._

  
Dean exhaled deeply, sinking back against the hard headboard behind him. The room was dark, the only light coming from the phone screen in front of him. It had taken all afternoon and most of the evening to get up the courage to pick it up and reply, and ten times as much again to actually stop avoiding the subject. And here was Cas, just listening, not balking and changing the subject or getting uncomfortable. More than any time before, Dean thought, he really could have kissed him.

  
**Yeah, well, life goes on. I had to be there for Sam, and I eventually got better. It was hard though, one of the hardest things I’ve ever had to do - and I had to bury my father before I left high school.**

  
_I’m sorry. I get it. And I know everyone says that, but honestly? When we first started talking I’d only just come out of a relationship too. If you could call it a relationship, anyway. After the first few months it was mostly me waiting for him to call while he traipsed around Europe having threesomes. Without me._

  
_Sorry. Didn’t mean to butt in._

 

**No, it’s fine. I didn’t know.**

  
_It never came up. He wasn’t the best, really. He was a great friend, but a terrible boyfriend._

 

_Sorry, carry on. I get the feeling you weren’t done._

  
**I’m nearly done, I promise.**

  
**I was so thrown by having to get over her, that I shut myself away. I stopped talking to people I didn’t know, I stopped dating, I stopped even hoping that I’d find anything else. I was resigned to the fact that nobody would ever want to be involved in my life ever again.**

  
**And then you came along, Cas. That stupid note and that stupid late night library visit and that stupid textbook.**

  
**You with your books and your horror movies and your ridiculous family and your random facts about rhinos at three in the morning.**

  
_Oh come on, that was one time._

  
**You pulled me out. I’m not sure how and I’m not even sure exactly when, but you did. You made me feel human again. And I really, really don’t want to freak you out with this, but I just, I gotta say it**

  
**I’m falling for you, Cas. I’m falling more, and faster, and deeper than I ever thought I could again.**

  
Dean stared at the sent message icon. It glowed, solid and unblinking as ever, steady as a rock. There it was. The screen dimmed slightly, going onto power-saving mode after a few seconds of inactivity. Despite the crushing panic which was creeping at the corner of his vision staring at the screen, Dean realised that he did feel better having said it. Less like there were a thousand unsaid words in his head trying to squeeze themselves through a tube like old toothpaste. He winced internally at the thought that he’d inevitably have to admit to Charlie that she’d been right about all of. She loved being right.

  
The clock ticked quietly on, on the opposite side of the room, as Dean closed his eyes and laid back, the cool dark enveloping him snugly. It would hurt if Cas stopped replying, yes, but less than if it had never been said. For all of his many less than positive personality traits, Dean was proud to say he rarely missed the chance to do something brave and stupid in the hopes that it would make things better. At least he’d tried.

  
He stretched in a highly ungainly matter and sunk down further into the memory foam mattress, the length of the day he’d had finally coming to rest on his shoulders. It was late, and he could worry just as well about it all in the morning.

  
Suddenly, his phone began to buzz mechanically against the hard wood of the nightstand. Dean reached over, a little sleepily, to read the incoming message, before sitting up straight with a jolt.

  
It wasn’t stopping.

 

He gulped in a huge breath, sliding his finger across the screen, half on autopilot as he lifted the phone to his ear. It clicked through.

  
“Hello?”

  
“Dean?”

  
Dean grasped the phone tighter, breath catching, probably louder than his pride had any hope of recovering from at the sound of the deep voice on the other side.

  
“Cas?”

  
A pause, quiet breathing filling the silence.

  
“Dean, I know it’s late, and I’m sorry for that but I just – I had to –“

  
“What, Cas?”

  
A husky inhale crackled down the line as the deep voice on the other end drew a deep breath.

  
“Dean Winchester, I started falling for you a long time ago and I’m not sure I know how to stop. I fell for you and I’m falling in love with you, and I just. Want to fall together. If you’ll have me.”

  
Dean lay back, brain spinning wildly to catch up from the short circuiting disaster it appeared to currently be experiencing, if the sparks behind his eyes were anything to judge it by. It was too much to process, lying here at gone midnight in this dark and cold little room, the near silence punctuated by the quiet snores of Sam through the adjoining wall they shared.

  
Cas was talking, actually talking, to him, and he was saying he felt the same way and he was there, and saying such amazing, incredible things, and he was feeling breathless just at the thought of it, and it was almost too-

  
“Wait, Cas – did you just call me by my full name?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ooooooh. OOOOOOHH. I'm so very nearly done with this. 
> 
> Also, Dean and Charlie are playing Until Dawn, if you hadn't guessed. It's very jumpy and very frustrating and very fun, and I recommend you go play it if you like horror games and having the pants scared off you.


	11. Chapter 11

Chapter 11

 

The door slammed shut yet again with a bang for the third time in as many minutes, making Dean jump only slightly less violently than he had twice before. The wind had really picked up in the last few days, and the lousy sealing on the door of the Taco Joint was making his bones itch with each and every slam.

It was quiet still, only a few dedicated regulars wolfing down their breakfast burritos as they tapped away on expensive looking laptops with expensive looking nails. Law students, he guessed – their Oxfords and sensible dark jackets laying a thin veneer of respectability over the sleepless rings beneath their tired eyes. It made sense, this place was Victor’s recommendation, it was cheap, close to the business and law school, and the staff seemed to care very little how long their tables were taken up as long as the _bebidas_ kept flowing. Which probably said more about the WiFi strength than the coffee quality, which as he’d figured out from the first sip, was less than high quality and dark as engine oil.

Dean picked unenthusiastically at the side of his cooling breakfast nachos, as un-hungry still as he had been upon hastily ordering them half an hour previously. His stomach was still churning, nerves so deep and tangibly frayed that he was surprised he wasn’t visibly vibrating. He glanced at the novelty clock on the wall, the large and small chilli peppers which acted as hands seeming solid and unmoving. It had _definitely_ been more than half an hour now, surely?

It had been a gargantuan effort in itself to even get to this point. Two days had passed since it had all changed. Two days of Charlie alternating between soothing reassurance and loud yelling at his stubborn fear, two days of Sam growing ever more sick of the moping and snapping and stress, before finally he’d packed up and headed off to his friend Ruby’s house, declaring that he’d ‘be back once his ridiculous brother sorted his shit out and talked to the guy he was STILL pining over already.’ Dean had pulled himself together briefly long enough to shout something vaguely offensive and brotherly right back at him, as the lanky little shit had stomped out of the door in the dramatic fashion that only a 16 year old ever could.

Two days since he’d told Cas he was falling for him. Two days since he’d said it right back.

It had been Benny, in the end, who’d been the only one to really help Dean to clear his head. Over beer and leftovers of Victor’s unreasonably good shrimp stir fry, they’d talked. Or rather, Dean had talked while Benny nodded, occasionally chiming in with a softly drawled question here and here.

They’d taken their time, Dean going into the whole affair more openly than with anybody except Charlie, confident in the trust his friend had earned and given solidly in return their entire friendship. And when they were done, Benny had set down his drink, caring and gentle, and took Dean by the shoulders to turn to him, look him deep in the eyes and say:

“Please, for all our sakes brother, go forth and get him already. Then please – go get laid. ”

So here he was. A short text exchange later – the first they’d had since the call – with shaky fingers and an even shakier resolve, and Dean had found himself sat at a rickety plastic table that smelled like chipotle, a whole forty-five minutes earlier than the time they’d agreed on, biting his nails and trying not to bolt down the street like a startled deer.

Another bang from the door behind him. He winced, about three seconds away from striding up to the counter and demanding to borrow their toolbox so he could fix those stupid cheap hinges and silence it forever. It really couldn’t be that difficult to add in a silencer, they were cheap as anything in the hardware store in town (once again: teenagers really were a steep learning curve, especially those with Sammy’s upper body strength, as he’d realised a few years ago).

It was beginning to rain even harder than it had been already outside, adding an extra layer of gloom to the cloudy, windy scene on campus. It wasn’t often he made the drive from the apartment – it was close enough to walk on most days, but today for some reason Dean had found himself grabbing the impala keys on his way out of the door. Maybe it was a comfort thing, he wondered with another sip of his second cup of awful coffee. He glanced at the chilli clock again – three minutes to go. Maybe he was just subconsciously anticipating the need for a quick escape. _Quit psychoanalyzing yourself, you douche._ Whatever it was, it had calmed his nerves slightly as he circled the quiet streets to the familiar hum of the engine, resetting his breathing to the pounding rhythm of Comfortably Numb on the stereo whenever it threatened to become frantic as it rose in his nervous throat. It was an old trick he’d picked up years ago, back in the days of frequent panic attacks and constant self-doubt after their dad had died – nothing else could ever seem to calm a pounding heartbeat quite as well as Pink Floyd and the low hum of a steady engine.

The door swung open behind him, crashing wildly into the poorly organised bench seats which lay right behind it with a cacophony of clanging noise, which had even the law students glancing blearily up over their bright screens to identify the disturbance. Dean swung around, coffee in hand, torn now between offering to fix the door or put his foot through it, and came face to face with a severely bedraggled male figure. He was dripping wet, having clearly been caught in the downpour without an umbrella, dark hair hanging wildly against pale skin and the brightest, bluest eyes Dean had ever seen in real life.

Dean felt his eyes travelling down involuntarily, taking in the full glorious sight ahead of him, the man still desperately attractive in a lithe and lanky way, despite being soaked to the bone and shivering. He was young, despite the frumpy coat he had on, and gave off a surprisingly intimidating impression, blocking the light in the doorway like that. He was clutching a cell phone in one damp hand.

***

Castiel had not had a good day.

No, scratch that, Castiel had not had a good week. First there was that ridiculously impulsive phone call at 1am, where he’d all but declared his love to the poor man who had chosen to open up to him so carefully and beautifully, and managed to take all of thirty seconds to reveal his secret knowledge of who was on the other end. Then, after an awkwardly stammered apology and absolutely no sensible explanation on his end (because really, he was mostly just trying not to implode with embarrassment), over 48 hours of absolute radio silence.

Cas had definitely had some fairly bad days in his life so far. There was the time that Gabriel was kicked out unceremoniously in the middle of the night, his Dad’s screams waking up the entire house as he threw his second-youngest son out into the cold night without so much as pair of shoes on his feet. Or the weekend after Balthazar had disappeared off to Europe where he’d received no less than twelve drunken phone calls and the odd skype call, consisting of loud British rambling in his ear at 4am with various different voices giggling and making sex noises in the background. Still, very little compared to the feeling of despair that had overtaken him at the thought that he might have screwed up the one thing that had made him happy recently.

So naturally it had been a relief to finally struggle through the tentative conversation which finally popped up on his phone after two torturous days of attempting to read medical textbooks, while actually inhaling far too many boxes of cereal and repressing his feelings so violently that even his weird housemate from down the hall, Steve, had asked what was up. Prior to that, the longest conversation he’d ever had with Steve had been about the best location to buy cheap coffee filters – so clearly things were growing dire.

Cas glanced down at his phone instinctively as he made for the door of the apartment, going over the conversation in his head once again. It was seared into his brain permanently at this point, from the amount of times he’d re-read it over the last few hours.

**Cas, are you there?**

_Yes, of course._

**Do you think – I mean, you can say no and I won’t hold it against you ofc – but do you think maybe we could meet up?**

_Yes I_

_Sorry, pressed send too early. Yes, I’d like that very much Dean._

**Okay, cool**

**You free tomorrow, around eleven?**

_Yes, that should be fine, whereabouts? There’s a great café on my street._

**Er, how about on campus? There’s a taco place on San Jacinto and E 29 th St that is meant to be good. You know, near Delta Tau Delta?**

_Oh yeah, I can get there easily enough._

**Okay, great**

_See you then!_

Pulling the door shut as quietly as possible behind him, Cas winced internally at the recollection. He hadn’t meant to be so awkward, but the late evening message had taken him by surprise after the two days of silence. It had seemed that he’d apparently forgotten entirely how to talk to other humans, and quite frankly, he was impressed that Dean hadn’t changed his mind altogether halfway through the exchange.

It was a cool day outside, and the wind was picking up as he pulled his jacket tighter around him. The ‘Taco Joint’, he’d discovered upon conducting a little furtive research (also known as ‘calling Kevin’) was thankfully on the side of campus nearest to his apartment complex, and it wasn’t really worth taking the bus. Cas checked his watch – 35 minutes until their agreed time, which was plenty of time to complete the half hour walk and panic outside for 5-ish minutes. Perfect. Walking past the communal garage outside where his bike was still stored tugged at his heart a little though – he really should make time to go for a ride soon, once this had all calmed down a bit and he wasn’t so busy with reading. It had been far too long, and it wasn't doing the engine any good to sit unused. Still, there was a certain pleasure in walking down the quiet, leafy streets without the usual early morning flood of university students surrounding him, zombie-like in their pre-coffee early morning procession towards class.

There were a lot of students in his neighbourhood, drawn together like fruit flies at the scent of low prices and decent landlords. Still, a lot of families occupied the low, squat little houses surrounding his apartment complex, and most of the yards he passed on the way contained the general debris and garden clutter that children seemed to leave in their wake. There were pets too, the odd cat lounging on a low garden wall, and excitable dogs tugging at their leads as they walked by with their owners. It was nice, he thought as he turned the corner, to think of kids growing up noisy and boisterous in such tidy and nice little houses, so different to the cold and empty mansion he had spent his childhood tip-toeing around. _I wonder if that’s what Dean’s home was ever like. I wonder what it’s like now._

A cold and unwelcome drop of rain landing squarely on his forehead shook him right out of that line of thought. Cas stopped, looking up at the quickly darkening sky in despair. It was too late to catch a bus now, he was over halfway there, and he’d walked a different way. It had been raining during the night, but it had looked like it was over, although the gathering clouds above gave no sign of that now. The leafy avenues were giving out to bare buildings now as well, with absolutely no shelter. The rain began to fall heavier, chilly and persistent, as Cas hurried his pace a little. _Maybe it would be better to duck into a shop and shelter. But then I’d be late. Maybe I should text him and let him know._ He took his phone out of the zipped pocket of his coat, ready to unlock it.

Before a single other thought could drift through his damp and racing mind, an enormous truck beep obnoxiously behind him, driving far too fast down the semi-residential road they were on. Cas turned in annoyance, just as the driver roared past – right through an enormous, deep, side of the road puddle. Cas stood solid, slightly in shock as he stared after the disappearing truck, dripping freezing water from head to toe. He was soaked to the bone from the hair falling in his eyes to the shoes, which were now squelching, he realised, taking a tentative step forwards. Something in his left hand vibrated weakly.

“No no no no no NO.” Cas came to his senses with a jolt, stopping dead in the street to stare at the phone in his hand. It was just as wet as everything else, and after another sad attempt at vibrating, the screen went dark and flickered off. He stared at it, hardly daring to believe that this was actually happening, right now, of all times. Pressing the button on the top of it did absolutely nothing except make a very wet noise, which was not very comforting. Glancing at his watch told him nothing useful – fifteen minutes left to go before their agreed meeting time, and around half of the journey left to walk. “Fuck.” He whispered, quietly, but with real feeling. This couldn’t be happening.

It was around that point that Castiel began to run.

***

The man strode into the restaurant purposefully, scanning the tables ahead of him with a terminator-like precision that sent shivers down Dean’s spine, despite the overall dishevelled appearance. He walked forwards, glancing at the students who had all turned back to their laptops, passing over the middle-aged lady in the back corner who was openly staring at him, and settled on Dean. Ah.

Dean gulped, shuffling backwards nervously as the figure approached him, now unmistakably headed his way, until he was staring up at 6ft of incredibly wet, shivering, _attractive_  stranger. He stared up from his seat, still grasping the sub-par coffee in one hand.

“Dean, I presume?”

The deep, rolling tones were altogether too familiar, and Dean found himself shivering for an entirely different reason. He nodded, and stood up to make room for his companion to squeeze around to the other chair. Castiel nodded gratefully, angling his coat sleeves away from the table so as not to drip on the metal surface. He sat gingerly down, shaking out his hair gently like an unhappy dog. Dean could only stare, taking in the sight ahead of him.

“Dean, can I expl-“

Cas stopped, cut off by the hand held up in front of him. Dean was still staring at him intently, scanning him up and down. It was slightly disconcerting, not helped by the fact that aside from thinking about how unreasonably damp he was, the only thing he could focus on was how perfect the man across from him looked. He was well-built but not large, with sandy hair and freckles that Cas already wanted to devote entire evenings to counting, wrapped in green plaid that matched his bright eyes, and a ridiculous leather jacket that fit far too well - and for some reason, still staring.

Suddenly, Dean broke. The laughter that had been building slowly in his chest exploded in a snort, then a snigger, then an absolutely uncontrollable stream of full-bellied laughter, as Cas looked on in shock. The waitress, who had been heading over to their table tentatively, took one look at them and turned on her heel, clearly awaiting a better time to offer a menu to the strange pair.

Dean was almost crying with laughter, tears visibly gathering in his eyes, as Cas desperately tried to open his mouth and explain, yet somehow failing to find the words to put together. He’d cycled from panic, to wonder, to annoyance to overall hysteria in less than four minutes and quite honestly – he was struggling to see the funny side of this. Dean must have noticed something in his expression, because he finally managed to get hold of himself, slowing to a gentle chuckle at what seemed like some effort. He lay back in the rickety chair, smiling a broad, shining grin that immediately warmed Castiel from the inside out.

“My god, Cas.” Dean chuckled again, taking a swig of coffee and wincing slightly at its bitterness. He stared over the table, looking deep into the deep blue eyes of the man he’d longed to lock eyes with for so long now. “You certainly know how to make a memorable entrance, don’t you?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This isn't quite finished yet... although I did consider being mean and leaving it there! 
> 
> I think maybe one or two more chapters? I'll see how lengthy it gets. Thanks to everyone who's stuck around so far though <3 you're the best, and I love how much you love this silly little story of mine.


	12. Chapter 12

Chapter 12

 

“So.”

“So.”

Cas took a slow sip of coffee, trying to stretch subtly away from the still dripping coat he had deposited on the bench to his left, mouth burning at the rising steam from the truly awful liquid he was currently pretending to enjoy. He stole a glance over the table, to find Dean staring at him unapologetically, a grin still playing around the edges of his outrageous mouth. At least he’d stopped laughing at his misfortune. For now.

“What is it?”

Dean laughed quietly, nodding gently towards the cup. “I just never imagined you taking your coffee with so much damn sugar in it.”

“Well, the caffeine alone just doesn’t really do it for me anymore. All these late nights and such.” Cas shifted uncomfortably, the gaze of the beautiful man across from him falling as heavy on his shoulders as sunlight on an August afternoon. “Besides, it’s helping to disguise the taste slightly.”

“Ha, you’re telling me. Victor might be right about the breakfast nachos, but _christ_ this is some terrible coffee.”

“Ahem.”

They turned sheepishly, the bored looking waitress having snuck up remarkably silently in the quiet din of the slowly filling restaurant. “You boys want a refill?” They nodded, abashed, both hiding grins and avoiding each other’s eyes as she pattered away back across the orange tiles.

“So, we should talk, right?”

Cas drew a breath, forcing himself to look up into the earnest gaze he could feel taking him apart once again. _God, why did he have to look so good? This would be so much easier if he didn’t look like that. Those eyes are going to haunt my dreams forever._

“Dean, I-“

“Can I just say something first?”

Cas stopped, taken aback. “Sure.”

“I’m not mad at you.” Dean shifted, leaning back in his seat and fiddling with a loose corner on the small plastic table. “I get that you must have known who I was for a while, and I don’t mind. I mean, it’s kinda weird, but I think I get it.”

Cas put down his cup and sat up straighter. “You do?”

“Yeah, it’s like – I’m blunt. I’m a blunt, straightforward kinda person. I’m great at holding grudges but terrible at keeping secrets. If something’s on my mind, I’m damn well going to voice it most of the time. And I get that not everyone else is like that. I get that maybe, it just wasn’t easy for you to tell me.”

Cas nodded slowly, processing. “They speak whatever’s on their mind, they do whatever’s in their pants. The boys I mean are not refined.”

“Yeah, yeah, and they shake the mountains when they dance.” Dean grinned, flicking a half-empty sugar packet across the table. “Come on dude, I am really not the sort of guy you need to quote poetry at.”

“Sorry, I just – it seemed apt.” Cas smiled tentatively, some of the tension in his shoulders easing out a little. “Although I should point out, I only found out who you were earlier that same day. And it’s not like I was trying to find out, I respected that you hadn’t told me yet. You can blame Professor Nolan for that. And Kevin, to an extent.”

“Kevin? Kevin _Tran_?”

“Yeah, he lives in the basement flat below me. We study, watch horror movies together, we share some tutoring clients. We’re sort of friends.”

“Christ.”

“Yeah.”

The waitress reappeared, click-clacking towards them with a fresh pot of coffee and a thin veneer of hospitality. They sipped in silence for a few moments, sharing quiet contemplation of the overall absurdity of the situation in unison.

“Can I just ask, who’s Victor?”

“Huh? Oh, right, Victor Hendrickson, he’s my friend. He recommended this place, his frat house is nearby.”

“Ah, right.”

“What, you’re not gonna tell me he’s like your second cousin or something, are you?”

“No, I just think I’ve been to some of his parties, he’s a friend of a friend. Halloween, New Years, just one or two.”

Dean guffawed. “New Years? You’re not actually telling me you were at the costume party.”

Cas stared. “You mean YOU were at the costume party?”

Dean sunk his head into his hands, shoulders trembling with the effort not to laugh or cry – he wasn’t quite sure himself. “This is getting ridiculous.”

“Shakespearean levels of farce, I agree.”

Cas turned to the window, the rain outside still beating down with alarming enthusiasm. “I suppose it’s too much to ask that we – we could remain friends?” He reached out to grab his coffee and settled for playing with a sugar packet, refusing to remove his glance from the window, lest the eyes across from him undo the resolve he’d been struggling to gather since he’d arrived. “I know this isn’t what you wanted and I’m sorry that it’s ended up this way, but I’ve really, _really_ enjoyed talking to you Dean and I just – I can’t imagine it not being there for a single day. I don’t want that.”

Silence fell over the small table, punctuated only by the tapping of keyboards and clanging of pans behind them, a cacophony of noise as if from afar. He wondered if anyone else in the restaurant was listening in, and was pleased to find that he didn’t care either way.

Then suddenly, a soft palm came down abruptly to cover his own where it lay toying with the sugar, lightly callused fingers stroking tiny circles into his hand that were already being replicated on his heart. Cas looked up in disbelief, meeting the rather indigent glare being shot his way.

“You think I don’t want this? You really think I don’t want you?” Dean shook his head, his open and trusting gaze so pure it was making Cas physically hurt. “Cas, did I or did I not say to you just a few days ago that I was falling for you?”

“Dean, I just-“

“No, that’s still true. That hasn’t changed. Why would that change?”

“Because why _would_ you?” Cas spat out, louder than he intended, taking them both by surprise. He shrugged it off, drawing back internally but refusing to draw back physically, making the most of the caring touch while he could.

“I’m a mess, Dean. You’ve got your own shit to deal with, you’ve got Sam and your own life and what do I have? A half-done med degree that I’m not even sure I want, a family who can barely be in the same room as each other without lawyers present, and a line of pathetic ex-relationships in my wake. Why would you want this?”

Dean continued to shake his head, having never stopped throughout the entire outburst. “I ain’t gonna pretend we haven’t both got baggage. But we don’t get to choose who we fall for, and I’ll be damned if I’m letting you get away so easy.” He stroked his thumb slowly over the soft hand below his, as if quieting a restless animal. “In all honesty, I was pretty sure you were going to take one look at my mess of a life and run for the hills. Wouldn’t exactly be the first time. But look at us now, eh? This is what I want. Shitty coffee and cheap tacos and all.”

Cas snorted, still not quite believing what he was hearing. He took a breath, letting it flood his lungs and quiet his thoughts somewhat. “You’re too trusting.”

“Oh right, says the guy who flirts with the random wrong number text in the middle of the night.”

“Dean.”

“Cas. Look, this might be end of one thing, but can’t it be the beginning of something even better?”

They smiled, slow and soft, as Cas finally settled back into the seat and slowly, tentatively, brought his other hand around to cover the tanned one of top of his own, slender fingers drawing patterns onto the freckled wrist. Dean flinched as the delicate touch drew goosebumps from his skin and a tremble from deep in his spine.

“You wanna get out of here?”

“ _God_ yes.”

Dean chuckled, extracting his hand gently. “I’ll get the bill, you go and wait by the door, they might not appreciate you getting the counter all damp.”

Cas nodded sadly, noting the rain out of the corner of his eye relentlessly beating down still. They shuffled out from around the small table awkwardly, all elbows and knees and both too tall in the tight space as they extricated wet coats and coffee cups. Cas picked his way through the poorly organised tables, muttering apologies under his breath at the few chairs he bumped into along the way. Dean soon joined him, shrugging on an old leather jacket and digging for something in his jeans pocket. They paused at the door, the bright grin on Dean’s face finally drawing an equivalent from Cas.

“Where are we going? I mean I’m already wet, but there’s no need for us both to get soaked.”

Dean laughed, pulling his car keys from his pocket and twirling them around a finger with nigh insufferable cockiness that Cas immediately found endearing and irritating in equal parts.

“I think we’ll manage.” He stopped, pocketing the keys and tugging at his jacket, before turning and sticking out his hand, a light blush rising on his cheeks.

“You ready?”

Cas grinned, his wet clothes feeling completely irrelevant now in the warm glow of happiness he felt surrounding him, staring over at this absurd, freckled, gorgeous man, finally able to tentatively bask in it. He grabbed the proffered hand, linking their fingers together smoothly and tightly, as if they had always meant to fit just exactly there.

“I’m ready.” 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you all so much for sticking with this story for LITERALLY THREE YEARS. I am so bad at getting things done when I say I will, but god damn do they always get done in the end <3 
> 
> There will be one more little chapter, an epilogue really, but I just wanted to say thank you now, and I really hope you've enjoyed this little story even just a little bit. I would never have picked it back up again without your encouragement and ongoing nice things to say about it, so just, yeah. Thank you. 
> 
> (Also, the poem quoted in this section is 'the boys i mean are not refined', E. E. Cummings, it's wonderful but it's very NSFW, and it will forever remind me of Dean Winchester's own perceived view of himself, AU or canon be damned. Go read it and enjoy.)


	13. Epilogue

 

_June_

 

 

“Castiel, you had better get your ass down here in the next five seconds or I swear to GOD-“

“Dean, calm the hell down. It’s not even 8 yet, we have plenty of time.”

“Time? Don’t talk to me about time, Ellen, the traffic around here is hellish on the best of days, let alone today. Cas!”

Dean resumed his nervous pacing of the shared living room, hands thrust into his pockets, circling the low coffee table in laps as Ellen and Bobby looked on in exasperation. It had been a solid two days so far of sun, catching up, and thinly veiled stress as Dean struggled to hide his eternal inability to cope with plans that he wasn’t entirely in charge of. Only Castiel had managed to calm him, his vaguely awkward and peaceful demeanour soothing the very air in the room, any sign of his own nerves or stress neatly tucked away if they even did exist.

It had not gone unnoticed by either Bobby or Ellen that whenever Cas was around, Dean seemed to relax by about ten notches automatically.  

As if on cue, Cas strolled into the room, looking for all the world as if he’d not heard any of the vocalised stress or shouting of the last half hour. Dean immediately stopped pacing, instead tutting and shaking his head as he walked towards the opened door.

“An hour to get ready and you still can’t manage to tie a tie properly?”

Cas chuckled, tugging at it somewhat self-consciously. “What can I say – I just don’t think suits and I are ever going to get along.” He stood patiently as Dean reached out to straighten out the poorly-knotted fabric with deft fingers, quickly and gently making him look presentable. They locked eyes and Cas smiled softly. “Calm down. Today is a good day.” Dean nodded, attempting a deep breath and only somewhat succeeding, hands drifting down half-noticed to rest on the other man’s chest, seeking something solid, something reassuringly _there_ to ground him. Today was a good day.

“Are we ever gonna leave, or do we have to sit here and watch you two paw at each other all day?”

The ferocious glare Bobby received in return for his plea from his adopted son would have seen lesser men crumble into dust right there on the unfamiliar motel sofa. Thankfully, Bobby Singer was not a lesser man.

***

“Dean I don’t think these are our seats.”

“This place is enormous, my god. How are we even going to spot him coming in?”

“You’re kiddin’, right? The kid is about two heads taller than everyone else down there, I’m surprised we didn’t spot him from the parking lot.”

“Don’t you get smart with me Bobby, you just remember who you’re sharing that long-ass journey back to North Dakota with, mister.”

“Cas, it’s fine, we’re in the right section, let’s just sit down, we’re blocking people.”

“Is it always this damn hot?”

“Bobby. It’s June, in California. What were you expecting, exactly? Besides, it’s nowhere near as bad as when Cas and I graduated, we just about melted in those damn robes.”

“Yeah, but then I was allowed beer. I swear, if it’s gonna be this hot they should at least let you bring in a few cold ones to sit with. Not even a damn hipflask.”

“Oh, real classy. And you say _we’re_ the southern hicks of this family.”

“Cas and Sam know I don’t say any such things… about them, anyway.”

“Oh, shut up you two! They’re starting to come in! Cas, honey, do you know how to zoom in on this thing? It’s going blurry.”

***

Dean beamed up at his little brother, pride winning over from the urge to mock him relentlessly about the horrifically clashing colours on his salutatorian robes. Only just, mind. They’d grinned dutifully through all of the official family photos, plus all of Ellen’s obligatory camera snaps, and even through several with Bobby, a rare occurrence by all means. Sat now on a picnic bench in the shade, surrounded by chattering students and their families, Dean had to admit – Stanford knew how to throw a pretty great commencement day.

Ellen had dragged Cas and Bobby away in search of somewhere to take further pictures of the two men standing awkwardly next to each other, no doubt, in front of some old buildings. Sam looked pretty happy at least, Dean mused. And why shouldn’t he?

“Thanks for coming again, man.” Sam shook his hair out of his eyes, squinting into the sun, and Dean bit back his urge to tell him to go get a haircut. “I know it’s been a busy time.”

“As if we’d ever miss this, idiot.” Dean punched his brother in the arm good-naturedly, taking a swig of the beer Bobby had managed to produce from somewhere – he suspected a rogue cooler had been snuck into the car at some point. “Have I ever missed anything like this for you?”

“Still.” Sam smiled, the same gawky kid grinning back at him as there always had been, despite the years that had passed so quickly. Dean felt the familiar tug of pain and fondness looking at the mostly-grown man who somehow now sat where that skinny kid brother of his always had, no longer all elbows and knees and stubbornness. Well, still a fair amount of stubbornness, actually. “When are you guys heading home anyway, same time as Ellen and Bobby?”

Dean cleared his throat, averting his gaze and taking another delicate sip. “Yeah, about that.”

Sam turned around, eyes suddenly more curious than Dean had counted on. “What about that? What do you mean?”

“You know Cas and I have been working with that charity for a while now, the one in Phoenix with the kids?”

“No, really? Of course, Dean, it’s all you ever talk about.”

“Funny. Well, Cas has been talking about him maybe taking on some extra training, doing some academic research to support them, and as it turns out, they’ve got contacts who can help him out with scholarships and stuff, and, well – he’s got a full ride place to go study and go do research with this guy John Powell, he’s this big expert in societal inclusion and equality studies. Cas is going to study with him, focusing on charitable and inclusive healthcare.”

“Dean, that’s amazing! So where is it, not in Austin?”

“…Berkley.”

Sam stared at his brother, who was now turning pink at the ears and struggling to hide a smile.

“Berkley? As in, the Berkley that’s a 40 minute drive from here? Berkley that’s right across the bay?”

“The one and only.”

Dean would never admit it later, but he wasn’t nearly prepared enough for the barrelling hug that his unnaturally large younger brother engulfed him in at that point, almost teetering backwards off the bench as they laughed, glowing in the warm air beneath the fragrant evergreen trees around them.

“As if you didn’t tell me this, honestly man, I can’t believe you sometimes.”

“Sorry. We just needed to finalise it all, get an apartment sorted and everything first, before we started telling everyone. Although, full disclosure, Bobby knew. He’s supervising the movers when they bring our stuff over next week.”

“What are you going to do though, while Cas is off at college again?”

Dean snorted. “Are you kidding? Oakland has some of the best kid’s counselling services on the west coast, I was spoilt for choice. I’m starting as a family therapist at a clinic in Lakeside in July, they practically begged me to start as soon as I could.”

Sam shook his head, still laughing, noticing out of the corner of his eye the rest of their little family traipsing back over the grass towards them, bedraggled from the heat and probably bickering by now, by the looks on Bobby and Ellen’s faces. “I gotta say, I really wasn’t expecting this as a graduation gift.”

Dean barked out a laugh, waving over at Cas as he also spotted the returning group squinting into the shade, trying to spot which picnic bench they’d left the brothers at. “Well, what can I say. My presence is of _course_ the best gift you could ever dream of, Sammy. You’re just so lucky.”

 

 

***

 

As the sun sank lower and the evening began to cool, Dean felt the warm glow of contentment around him grow only brighter and heavier. All throughout dinner, their impromptu walking tour of campus to see the law school where Sam would be studying come the fall, their late night walk home from the bar where they’d deposited Sam with a group of rowdy friends to continue his celebrations way past when they were prepared to stay up – love and happiness sat on his shoulders like a comforting, heavy blanket.

Intertwining his fingers with Cas’s as they strolled down the quiet streets on their way back to the motel room they’d rented in Palo Alto, Dean found himself grinning. Cas, noticing, laughed quietly, swinging their hands together softly in response.

“Good day, overall then?”

Dean smiled, tugging him to a halt beneath a streetlight on the corner where they stood. “The best.” Their lips met naturally, soft and yielding, the warmth between them simmering steadily as they wound together. Dean grinned into the kiss as he felt strong hands grasping as his hair, savouring the sensation as they broke apart, foreheads resting against one another. “I can’t believe I get to move here with you, Cas, and do all of this with you. I can’t wait.”

Cas nodded, stealing another soft, closed-lip kiss. “Do you ever think about how easily we might never have met?” he whispered, fingers playing with the lapel of the suit jacket resting against his own. “You could have picked up another textbook, you could have never sent that first message. I could have never replied.”

“Nah.” Cas looked up, eyebrow raised in question as their eyes met once again, bright in the dark California night. “I’d have found you somehow, I know it. You’re too good for me to have missed out on.”

“Aw, Dean Winchester. You’re getting so soft in your old age.”

Dean shoved him playfully, eyes crinkled with a smirk in the half-light of the yellow streetlamp. “Shut up. You know what I mean.”

Cas nodded, smiling back. “I guess so.” He straightened up, tugging his jacket back into place and grabbing Dean’s hand. “Come on, it’s late and I’d like to rack up at least two more noise complaints from this horrible motel before we check out. Their sheets are far too thin, they deserve to be again reminded that their walls are too.”

Laughing, Dean followed, striding hand in hand with the man he loved down the deserted street, the noise of the celebrating students of the city dimly ringing in his ears in the background. It was definitely going to be weird moving so far away from everything he’d known, but hell if he couldn’t think of a single better person in the world to do it all with, not a better chance that he’d ever get to start making a life he could be proud of. The air was warm and smelled of salt, the night was dark and glowing with promise, the cheap motel bedsheets were screaming out for their presence, and Dean Winchester was happy.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ((Did somebody say... sequel?)) 
> 
> ;)


End file.
